Psychologist
by Lyricism
Summary: AU. Deidara seems like the standard new kid to Sasori. But, when the bubbly blond enters his life and brings love, child abuse and his cutting adddiction out into the open, Sasori's life will never be the same.
1. Foreign Concept

And now, for my next serial fanfic! XD Wootz! Streamers and confetti! Yaaaaaaaay!

Okay, so this one follows Deidara and Sasori at their school, from the first time they meet to the fateful basketball game in which they meet Kisame. This is a prequel-thing to my "Manicurist" fic, and you don't need to read "Manicurist" to read this story, nor do you need to read "Manicurist" after you finish reading this story. But, doing so would make me a very happy author. XD

This takes place a year before "Manicurist," so that means that they're all in seventh grade, okay? Just wanted to make that clear.

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Sasori grunted as he threw himself into a desk before homerooom. School. How he hated it. There were so many things to worry about there: exams, cliques, homework. God, what a waste of his time. Even so, there he sat, waiting for the school day to begin.

He watched as various students came in through the door. First came Anko, the punk-rock chick who had a reputation of beating up any guy that broke up with her. Next, Iruka, a quiet, studious kid. Thirdly came Kurenai, the school slut. But, the next person to walk into the door, he didn't recognize.

The kid was relatively tall, with long, blond hair that completely covered the left side of his face. Sasori couldn't tell if it was a boy or a girl, but he did know something: whoever they were, they were new. And _definitely _not going to fit in, since they were clad in all black goth-yet-not clothes. Too in-betweenish to fit in with the punks, and not bleak enough to fit in with the goths. Which meant that they would probably gravitate toward Sasori.

The new kid took a seat in the far right corner of the room. Trying to go unnoticed? Oh, we got a shy one here.

"Okay, kids," the teacher called. "Take a seat for attendance," she said, calling off the names from a long-looking list. Akimichi Choji. Here. Aramasu Dan. Here. Akasuna Sasori. Here. The last name she called out, though, was the one that most of the kids paid attention to. "Azumoji Deidara," the teacher yelled out.

The blond raised their hand routinely. "Here," he answered in a male voice. So the new kid was a guy.

After role call, people immediately began talking again. Psh. How predictable.

Sasori, however, did not partake in the socialization. He was too busy watching Deidara. First, he flipped through a notebook, dog-earing a page and writing something down. Then he took out a black pen and began hitting it against the side of the desk he was sitting at. And then-

Sasori stopped himself. Why was he so worried about the new kid, anyway? To Sasori, he looked a little less than a wannabe transvestite.

His morning classes drolled on, as usual, but lunch came soon enough. And, once again, Sasori noticed Deidara. This time, however, the blond was wandering the cafeteria. Trying to find a place to sit, no doubt. Well, he'd have a hard time doing that _this_ period. The people in this lunchtime were vicious.

After about two minutes, Deidara made his way to the back of the cafeteria, where Sasori was sitting. "Do you mind?" he asked, placing his tray down onto the table.

The redhead (Sasori) shrugged. "It's a free country, isn't it?"

"Yeah…" the other boy replied, distantly, sitting himself down and beginning to eat. "So… what's your name?" he asked finally. "Mine's Deidara."

"I know," Sasori snapped. "And mine's Sasori. Don't wear it out, got it?"

Deidara nodded. "As you say, sir…"

--

The rest of the period was spent in silence, and when the bell rang, Sasori couldn't be happier. His favorite class was next.

Art class was traditionally a place to teach oneself about fine art. But, the public school system had twisted it so that it was now mere social time. Sasori was appalled by this. True art was something that lasted forever, and you must know about it in order to keep it alive, so to speak. Why couldn't the school system see that?

When he walked into the rather messy classroom, he detected Deidara sitting in the very back. Once again, the blond seemed withdrawn.

Taking up his normal seat next to the windows, Sasori lent a deaf ear to the teacher, who was rambling on about the clay projects they were currently working on. He didn't need to listen. He knew the directions: sculpt something out of clay, keep the clay wet, and don't throw the clay at one another. Easy enough to remember.

Strangely, he didn't mind working with clay; once it hardened, it stood the test of time. Almost all of the ancient relics that one found while on an archeological expedition were made of clay of some sort. True art was very amazing indeed.

Meticulously smoothing out his own sculpture's edges, his eyes trailed over to Deidara once again. The blond, who had just gotten a huge chuck of clay, was expertly rounding out some rough geometric shapes: a circle, two triangles, and a big semicircle as the base. What could he be making?

By the end of the period, Sasori's question was answered. In front of Deidara was a bird, remotely like a rubber ducky, with, a medium-sized beak, wings with rounded edges for feathers, and what looked to be a plume on top of its circular head.

People began to marvel at the new arrival's masterpiece. Deidara, however, had a very bleak expression on his face. What, did he not like it or something?

Apparently, he didn't, because he promptly pushed it off the table and onto the ground after its completion. Because the clay had still been fresh, the bird hadn't shattered. Instead, it had broken into a few pieces when it hit the ground.

The blond seemed pleased with what he had done; a smile graced his lips when the bird hit the floor. What was wrong with this guy?! It seemed that he had _wanted _to break his art. _Why? Does he not like clay?_ Sasori wondered, as the blond picked up the clay that had separated into pieces and mashed them back together, forming a huge terracotta lump. Where the hell was this guy from, where they don't appreciate things that were supposed to last?

------

Sasori, now curious about the enigmatic new kid, decided to confront Deidara and get his answer. After the last bell had rung, he saw Deidara walking home, in the same direction in which Sasori himself lived. Looks like the wannabe transvestite lived in his neighborhood.

Pushing that train of thought aside, the redhead ran up to the blond. "Deidara!" he called.

Deidara stopped in his tracks and turned around. "Oh. Hi, Sasori," he said as the other boy caught up with him.

Sasori panted and he spoke. "You have some explaining to do," he said in a commanding tone.

The blond shot him a puzzled look. "Uh, okay…which is…?"

"Why did you break that bird you made in art today? It was really good, and people seemed to like it. Why'd you destroy it?" he asked.

Deidara shrugged. "I wasn't _destroying_ the art, I was _creating_ it. See, from my point of view, art is something that comes suddenly, stays for a couple seconds at the most, and disappears."

Sasori couldn't believe what he was hearing. Art? Not lasting? There's no way. "You're foreign, aren't you?" he inquired incredulously.

"Well, I 'unno. It depends on what you consider 'foreign.' I was in Burbank before coming here," the new kid answered. Turning away, he looked out at the sidewalk. "Look, I'd love to get acquainted, but I gotta get going. See you tomorrow, 'kays?" And with that, Deidara continued on his way home.

_Wow, _Sasori thought. _Yet another crackpot at this school. Just what we need. _

Getting home that night, Sasori opened and slammed the door shut on his way in like he always did. "Grandma Chiyo! I'm home!" he yelled out, heading straight for his basement.

Turning on the light as he went down the stairs, he immediately headed for the small corner in which Sasori's prized possessions were both made and worked on. His beloved puppets.

He was somewhat of a carpenter, because said puppets were normally made of wood. No other material was better for them. Both durable and workable, it provided the perfect medium for the everlasting art.

And, the redhead took some real pride in his work; he never stopped until he felt that his inventions were exactly as he wanted. Which, with Sasori's high expectations, took a while.

Inspecting a puppet arms that he had made the night before, he began to carve another one in its exact likeness. First the arm, them a pair of legs, then the torso, and so on. He always did the head last, though. Something about working on a project that could stare back at you didn't appeal to him.

At about 10:30, Sasori stopped working. It was getting late (no duh), and sleep was a definite necessity. But, something else needed to be done first…

------

In his upstairs bathroom, Sasori opened the medicine cabinet and reached for the back corner. Feeling a wooden handle, he took it out carefully…

He stared at the kitchen knife that he held in his right hand. Small, sharp, and with blood splatter-stains all over it. If Grandma Chiyo found this, Sasori'd be dead by now, both metaphorically and physically.

Sitting himself down up against the door, he began with his nightly ritual. Slice, slice, pause. Cut the other way. Let bleed while repeating with the other wrist.

Sasori continued this 'treatment' for a bit. He had started cutting himself a ways back, after his parents had died and he was convinced that his life sucked. Now, he took refuge in his art, his puppets. Even still, he kept cutting himself out of habit. It was a sort of addiction.

Dropping the knife, the redhead relaxed his arms to encourage the blood flow. It felt so nice, so _relieving. _Like a warm bath that smelled like new coins.

After the blood had clotted in both of his wrists, Sasori painstakingly picked himself up and wet a paper towel to clean the red splotches off the tile. No need to give anyone evidence of his dependency.

------

That next day at school, Deidara once again sat with Sasori during lunch. He could tell that the other boy was still shy, since the blond wouldn't meet Sasori's gaze or speak unless spoken to. Which was more or less what Sasori wanted. Why talk to weirdoes like him, anyway? He probably didn't have anything interesting to say.

This was where Sasori was wrong. During English class seventh period, which he and the blond had together, they were told to think up a saying that described themselves the most. To build self-esteem or something. He (Sasori) couldn't care less about this, and just scribbled down whatever came to mind.

Deidara, however, had something rather philosophical to say when he was called on. Instead of something stupid, like 'Knowledge is power,' or 'Always keep your chin up,' he posed a more original answer.

"I have two," the blond said when it was his turn. "The first is, 'You're only lame if you're a cripple.' The second is, 'A body will heal eventually, but almost nothing mends a broken spirit.'"

This earned him a chuckle from the rest of the class. Lame if you're a cripple? To most of the people in the room, that didn't make sense. And, what was with that dorky spirit comment? No one really believed that stuff.

Sasori, however, became curious. Maybe this wannabe transvestite was more than he appeared to be.

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There ya are, the first chapter! Whee!

Please bear with me, the first few chapters of this fanfic are rather bad. I had some real writer's block when trying to get from Point A to Point B, and…the bad chapters are the results of my efforts. No worries, though, it get better as it goes on (already has first four chapters written out).

And, I sure hope that this fic can live up to "Manicurist." Hope and pray, right?

Anyway, review, please:D


	2. Figuring Him Out

Neh…this is one of the worst things I have ever written…MAJOR writer's block…oh well. Read anyways. :)

And, I don't own the song "Black Balloon."

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Sasori was now curious about the new kid, Deidara, whom of which he had paid special attention to in the classes they had together- science, lunch, art, English, and social studies. And, from what he had observed, Sasori could draw a few conclusions. The blond was an only child, either gay or bi, his favorite colors were black and yellow, and he loved to draw almost as much as he loved to sculpt (and then ruin his creations after completion).

Deidara also seemed to be chronically introverted. It might just be the whole new-school thing, but one never knows.

--

One day, at lunch, the blond posed a question. "Uh, Sasori," he started, "Not to pry or anything, but what kind of music do you listen to?"

The redhead was taken aback by this. How random. "Er, lots of stuff. Soft rock, pop, hip-hop…"

Deidara's eyes shifted to the table. "I kind of wanted to know which bands…" he clarified.

"Oh. Well, there's a lot, like I said. Matchbox 20, REM, The Goo Goo Dolls, stuff like that. From the 90's, I guess," Sasori shrugged. "You?"

"I like upbeat music," the blond replied. "Reggae, rock, and such. Like Sean Paul, Sugarcult, Skye Sweetnam…like that kind."

The other boy nodded. "Oh," he said, as he watched Deidara take out a piece of Xerorx paper and begin sketching on it. "What are you drawing?"

Deidara didn't look up. "Something," he answered distantly.

Sasori stopped there. He knew that nothing, NOTHING bothered someone more than an excessive amount of questions.

------

When Sasori got home later that day, he went straight to his upstairs bathroom. The things that had happened that day were _so _confusing…

First, there was art class, in which Deidara proceeded in drawing an extremely lifelike sketch of a water lily on a pond's surface, only to paint over it with blobs of red ink, destroying the original pencil lines. The blond's way of thinking was _extremely_ odd when it came to art.

Second, there was English class, where they (the students) were told to write free verse poems and then present them to the class that same day. To hone writing skills or something. Deidara's had been so depressing, it could have made a hardcore gothic freak cry. And who knew that the newcomer had such an extensive vocabulary?

Next came science, in which the blond had mixed two chemicals together during an experiment. However, he had mixed the ones that the teacher had specifically said _not _to mix, because they were extremely volatile. He obviously hadn't listened, since the entire class had to be evacuated.

Last was social studies, which was unusually quiet today, since no one had read the chapter that they were assigned the day before, except Deidara. He seemed to know every answer without thinking.

On top of that, why was Sasori so concerned with the blond, anyway? He was nothing more than a new kid. Nothing special. So…why was he so worried about Deidara? This all made Sasori's head spin, but the initial slice had gotten rid of that. No Deidara, no school, no corrupted art class. Just a relaxing feeling with a copper scent.

--

After his nightly ritual was over, Sasori went into his corner of the basement and resumed working on his puppets. Make the head, carve the facial features, screw onto body. Easy enough, if not tedious.

When the puppet was done, Sasori began playing around with it, to make sure the joints worked properly and all that. Confirming that his creation was done, he took it up to his room to store in his closet with the rest of his creations. Fun, fun.

------

The next day, at lunch, Deidara asked Sasori another question. "Er, Sasori," he started, "do you play any instruments?"

Sasori groaned to himself. What was with this guy and all the music questions. "No," he replied firmly. "Music isn't artistic at all. You play it, you hear it, and then what? It's gone forever. How boring."

The blond began poking at his mashed potatoes. "But, the memory of the music lasts, right? So wouldn't you consider the memory artistic or whatever?"

"No," he replied in a gruff tone, shaking his head. "Memories eventually fade away. They're not art, either."

Deidara sighed. "But, don't you think it's nice to hear? I mean, it can be soothing, or energizing, or depressing…"

Sasori groaned. "Look, music is music. It's not art. It's just music. Okay?"

The blond continued playing with his food. "Well, I think it is," he retorted under his breath.

--

After school that day, Sasori passed by the music room on his normal route to the exit. Through the closed door of the room, he could hear and acoustic guitar playing. Curious, he slowly and gently opened it to find Deidara sitting on the floor and strumming away. He eventually began singing:

"_Baby's black balloon makes her fly/I almost fell into that hole in your life/You're not worried about tommorow/'Cuz you were the same as me…"_ the blond sang out in a rather beautiful voice.

The redhead smiled as he closed the door. That's why Deidara had asked about music. _Well, _he thought, _I guess it's art if Dei makes it. _

------

A week went by, and all the while Deidara began opening up, bit by bit, to Sasori. He began to look the redhead in the eye, and his voice became louder and more confident. By the second Monday, he now acted like a bubbly, rather happy blond.

Sasori couldn't help but start liking the guy. With an infectious smile, witty jokes and an artistic taste to boot, who wouldn't? Of course, he never said so out loud. Why would he? No one cared much about his opinion.

The only thing that really bothered him about Deidara was all the attention that he would attract. Even as he walked down the halls, all the 'macho-athletic' boys would snicker at and taunt him.

"Hey, hey, look, guys. It's the gay."

"Maybe he's transgender. And, if he is, he doesn't make a very convincing girl. Or a very convincing boy, if that's what 'he's' trying for. Man, this stuff is confusing…"

"Dude, gender-confused or not, a faggot's a faggot. Hey, fag, where ya going? We're not done chatting with you!"

Every time people would shoot these rude remarks at him, Deidara normally turned the other cheek. Metaphorically and physically. Still, Sasori could tell that the comments hurt. The blond's eyebrows generally titled upward and he would begin to walk faster, two dead giveaways. It seemed that getting away from the bullies was his first priority, rather to stop the taunting. It made sense, really. You can't change what people think of you, but you can change how you deal with it, Sasori guessed.

It really irritated the redhead that people made fun of the newcomer. Sure, he normally dressed in all black. Sure, his hair was about as long as Kurenai's (the school slut, remember her?). And sure, he had a feminine physique. But that didn't give them a liable reason to poke fun at him. God, homophobes were SO annoying.

All the scorn that Deidara seemed to be getting from the general public appeared to be making him cling to Sasori a bit. He would hang around wherever the redhead was when given social time, and it didn't look like he enjoyed communicating with other people. _He must not trust the other people at this school,_ Sasori reasoned. _Smart guy_. _These whetto rejects are a bad bunch at best. _

This forming 'relationship' had no effect on Sasori's nightly 'treatment,' however. And, because of the 'treatment's consistency, it seemed like Deidara was catching onto him. After all, the blond cringed when Sasori wore a long-sleeved sweatshirt during an 80-degree warm spell, and he appeared to notice the redhead's averseness when it came to raising his hand in class (for fear of having the sleeve ride up and show the scars). Sasori would have to come up with A LOT of good excuses to keep Deidara satisfied and off his back.

Luckily, the blond never said anything. Hopefully, he never would.

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Short chappy, I know. Writer's block, remember?

Well, anyways, I try to keep my chapters at least five handwritten pages at least (one page being one side of a sheet of paper). Of course, when the schoolyear starts again, I might cut them shorter…

Reviews make Deidara a little less of an enigma. (Note: these clever little sayings are reminders for you to review. Some people didn't quite get that in Manicurist.)


	3. Art

Back with chappy 3! XD Well, I started working through my writer's block at this point, so hopefully the story will get better as I go on…those first couple chapters were an absolute disaster. I might rewrite them if I get the time…anyways, enjoy!

I don't own AIM, Youtube, or any other pop-culture reference in this chapter.

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"Shut the fuck up! I can dress and act how I want to, regardless if you approve or not! SO. FUCK. OFF," Deidara yelled at Asuma, the ringleader of the athletic group that normally taunted him.

"Oh, and so you think you can just take your fag self and strut around the school like it's no big deal? Like you're all that?" Asuma countered loudly. "Well, I got news for you, _little crossdresser_: the jocks, me and my peeps, make the rules. We enforce the rules. And we make sure that the rules are fair. We're just like the House of Reps and the Senate put together!"

The blond rolled his eyes. Not only was he taller than Asuma, therefore the bully had no right to call him 'little,' but almost EVERYONE knew that the House of Representatives and the Senate only made laws. "Look, I couldn't care less which branch of government you represent, but FYI, the House of Reps and the Senate only make the laws. The president's the one who enforces them, and the Supreme Court's the one that makes sure they're constitutional. Here," he said crossly, throwing his history book into Asuma's hands. "Educate yourself." With that, he walked away with his head held high, seemingly confident.

Deidara's artificial self-assurance faded when he made his way into an empty homeroom. Slumping his shoulders over, he groaned. "Oh. My. God. Asuma. That fucking bitch, ahm'uhn (I'm going to) (it's a dialect thing from where I live, don't ask) have Hidan sacrifice him next time I see the crazy cult priest…oh well…"

"Wait, _who's _crazy cult priest?" Sasori asked, arriving.

The blond turned to look at his friend. "Oh, hi, Sasori. I was just talking to myself, that's all. The crazy cult priest I mentioned is my friend from Burbank, Hidan. A real badmouth, but a fun guy to hang around."

The redhead nodded. "Ah. So, do you miss him? I mean, it's not like you guys are going to visit one another's house anytime soon…"

Deidara shrugged. "Yeah, I guess, but I talk to him all the time. Thank God for Youtube and AIM," he replied, taking up his normal seat at the back of the room. "Well, not to pry or anything, but…do you have any other friends? I 'unno if you consider me a friend, but I've never really seen you talk to any other people besides me."

Sasori grunted. "I really don't like to socialize with the people at this school," he said. "They're either a jock, a slut, a punk or a nerd. And frankly, I don't associate with any of those cliques."

The other boy began flipping through his assignment notebook. "But, if that's the case, then what do you consider yourself? An in-betweener?" he inquired, folding the edge of a page.

It took Sasori a few minutes to answer. Sitting down in a desk next to the blond replied definitely. "I'm an artist."

Deidara began doodling in the margins. "That's good," he said, "'Cuz I'm an artist, too."

--

"So, what's your 'art,' Sasori?" Deidara asked during science that day.

"I make puppets," the redhead replied, flipping through his notes. "They last forever, and they're rather practical, too. You?"

The blond bit the inside of his lip. "Well, I draw, as you know, and I can play the guitar, too, but there's one other thing that I consider art more than anything, but I can't say what here. I'll show you after school, if you want."

Sasori shrugged. "Sure. Why not?"

------

The last bell rang, and Deidara wasted no time in leading Sasori away from school to show him his 'art.' The farther away they got, the more the redhead became curious about what the newcomer was going to show him. And why couldn't he tell him in school? Questions, questions.

Finally slowing down, he had taken Sasori into a gorge, complete with a creek running through it and rotting leaves all around. "You ready for this?" Deidara asked excitedly.

The redhead situated himself on a rock. "Ready as I'll ever be, I guess. Give me your best shot."

The blond gave a quiet 'kay' and pulled something out of the pocket of his black cargo pants. Gently tossing it out, the little _thing _seemed to flutter as it hovered over the stream. It exploded into brilliant shade of red, white and orange, and Sasori could tell that Deidara was beaming. Is THIS what the blond called art? Wow, what a misconception. "Was that not AWESOME?!" Deidara asked loudly. "I mean, the colors! The disappearance! …the colors!

The redhead shifted his attention to the ground. "The colors were nice," he agreed, "but it didn't _last._ Come on, something definitely has to last to be considered art. Otherwise, it's boring."

Deidara gave him a stare, insulted. "It is TO art! Art is something that comes suddenly and disappears quickly! If something lasts forever and is always there, then it's not special anymore, and you lose interest in it. Whereas if it doesn't last, every time you see it, you like it more."

Sasori rolled his eyes as he jumped off the rock. "That's a load of bull," he spat, making his way out of the gorge. "Fireworks aren't art."

The blond pouted and followed. "Oh, and you think puppets are art? Look, they're just dolls, and dolls aren't art, either."

"Yes, but they're dolls that _last. _They are SO art."

"No, Sasori. You fail to see the point. _Art. Doesn't. Last. Forever. _It is fleeting, destructive and flashy. My God, and I thought you were smart!" Deidara exclaimed as the two walked home.

Sasori sighed. "And you, dear child, fail to see _my _point. Art is not, repeat, NOT, explosive, dangerous or otherwise; it is calm, serene, and an everlasting entity," he argued.

"Is not! Repetition is SOOO boring, even you can't deny that. And, just seeing the same damn thing over and over again counts as repetition! And I'm as much of a child as you are. We're the same age," Deidara countered. "Twelve, right?" (Keep in mind that this is a year before Manicurist.)

The redhead nodded. "Yup. One-two. Anyway, seeing explosions all the time also counts as repetition. I really wish you wouldn't contradict your-"

"Ah, but that's why you have to find constant stimulation for your art, so that it's always new and exciting," the blond explained, cutting Sasori off.

"Dei, you and I both know that-"

"Hey, who said you could call me that?!" Deidara asked irritably. "Only close friends can call me 'Dei' and get away with it."

The redhead blinked. "Well, seeing as though you're my friend, I think I can call you whatever I want and get away with it. Just feel lucky I don't call you 'queer,' okay?" he asked, with a fluctuating voice (as apposed to his normal, slight monotone).

The blond threw his head back. This was the first time he had heard Sasori talk with a little flair in his voice. "Well, I guess you can call me that," he thought out loud, "but only as long as we're mutual friends."

"Deal."

------

As they got to know each other, the twp artists realized that they were polar opposites of each other. Deidara like it loud, wild, and energizing, while Sasori preferred it soft, controlled, and peaceful. Deidara was chocolate, Sasori was vanilla. Deidara was ink, Sasori was lead. Deidara was study-over-a-period-of-time; Sasori was 'cram session.' But most of all, Deidara was fleeting explosion, and Sasori was everlasting crystal.

Nevertheless, they became good friends, albeit a little arguing her and there.

And, although Sasori still cut himself nightly, he began to slice his wrists fewer times, and soon it was regulated to one cut per arm. As much as he hated to admit it, Deidara was a nicotine patch for him. A psychologist, a personal counselor. A savior, maybe. But definitely a psychologist.

With this new 'psychologist,' Sasori had gained more self-confidence, too. The blond's 'I-am-who-I-am-and-I-don't-care-what-you-think' attitude was infectious, and soon the redhead began believing in it, too.

He also began to stand up for his new friend whenever Asuma and Co. would give him trouble. Artists had to stick together, he figured, and since he and Dei were the only artists in the school, they had to look out for each other. Different as they were, they also seemed to be on the same wavelength, and Sasori felt that Deidara really understood him. And it looked like Dei felt the same way, since the blond would be a lot friendlier to the redhead than anyone else.

Of course, having someone stand up for Deidara aggravated the instigators. And so, they planned an 'incident.'

It happened on a seemingly normal Friday: homeroom was a bore, Dei blew stuff up in science, they argued about art during lunch, Sasori wowed his English class with a well-written essay, and social studies was full of dolts and airheads. Nothing spectacular, except in art class.

Sasori had created a wonderful wooden scorpion in the supposedly corrupted class. (They were whittling in art class, don't ask why.) He was very proud of it, despite Deidara's unenthused opinion, and set it up on a high shelf in the room for safekeeping. The only time that students were allowed to take their projects home was at the end of the quarter, to allow the teacher enough time to grade. He was hating that rule right now, but separation made the heart grow fonder, right?

--

After school, something extremely bizarre happened. Just as Sasori was about to pass by the art room on his normal route out of school, Ino, one of Kurenai's underlings, stopped him.

"Hey, Sasori!" she called, running up to him, grabbing his arm and dragging him away from the classroom. "I have a question!"

Sasori grunted as Ino loosened her grip. "Okay, what is it?" he spat bitterly.

The girl's head tilted downward as she looked up at the redhead. "Well, um…I was wondering what you were doing tomorrow night…" she half-whispered.

He gave her a death glare. "I'm not going out on a date with you," he growled.

Ino shifted her weight. "Oh, that's not it," she replied in probably the sweetest voice she could possibly do. "I was just wondering, because….because you're such an _enigma _to us all. Everyone, that is," she cooed, running her index finger up and down Sasori's chest, "except that blond. Deidara, was it? Oh, he's a guy, isn't he? Well, he IS a very pretty guy, so I guess I can see why you'd be into him…"

"Hold it. I'm not 'into' Deidara at all. We're friends, not lovers," the redhead said, pushing Ino off. "And," he added, "not all of us are horny, bitchlike whores like yourself."

The girl, insulted, gave Sasori a sly smile, "Ya know, Sasori," she started, "chicks don't dig gay guys. Keep that in mind," she said, quickly making her way in the other direction.

Sasori glared at her for a minute as she left, wondering why a gay guy would care if chicks dug him or not. Dismissing the thought, he headed back out the door. _My God, that girl really IS an annoying slut, _he thought, as he noticed something broken on the floor in the art room in his peripheral vision.

After a double-take, he decided to see what had broken, and clean it up. He wasn't in a hurry, and he figured he'd save the janitors some trouble.

Once he walked in, he was both shocked and disappointed. One the ground, broken into at least 100 pieces, was the small scorpion he had worked days on. Picking up the pieces, he became enraged. _Why the hell would someone do something as terrible as this? I mean, I worked hard on it, and I've never done anything to anyone that would cause them to-_ Sasori's thought was interrupted by the sound of paper being stepped on. Looking down at the yellow piece of paper, that his foot was now partially covering, he unfolded it and read-

_This is what you get for siding with a faggot. _

_Hope Ino had a fun chat with you._

_-Asuma and Friends_

Making a fist, he crumpled up the note. How dare they?! Dei didn't mind having his art broken, but when you break Sasori's art, you also break his patience. Throwing away the wood pieces, he called Asuma some very colorful names before heading home.

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Some of you may be wondering why I made Asuma the main antagonist. I really don't know myself, I guess it's just because Asuma (in the series) reminds me of this dude at my real school who's mean and calls everyone faggots, so…yeah. I have a connection there.

And, yes, Ino is a slut in my world. No offence to Ino fans or anything, but I just can't stand her, and she also reminds me of someone from my school who's a slut, so I made her a slut, too. No hard feelings, right?

Something I've also noticed is that since Sasori and Deidara are polar opposites, people either relate to one or the other, but never both. Personally, I'm more of a Sasori, given my taste for quieter evenings as opposed to wild parties and cram sessions. And, vanilla is good. Totally.

Anyways, reviews help Deidara decide on a color to repaint his room with. No flames, though.


	4. Just Deserts

Okay guys, fourth chappy, and I'm upping the rating to "M" for safety. Just read, and you'll find out why.

And, ffnet's being weird and saying that this fic only has two chapters sometimes, then sometimes it says it has three…and the number of reviews is all screwed up…I might have to repost this entire thing in order to get it straightened out…I'll figure it out somehow…

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Asuma was being his bastard self the next Monday. Sasori, still hosting raw anger from the Friday before, avoided said bastard and gave him death glares whenever possible.

The jock, however, seemed unfazed. Continuing to joke about Deidara being androgynous, he completely ignored Sasori.

Until lunch, that is.

When he arrived at the cafeteria, Sasori headed for his normal table, toward the back of the huge room. His usual path, however, was blocked by three huge figures. Asuma and his 'subordinates,' Genma and Hayate. Peachy.

"Hey, there, _artist,_" the bully taunted, grabbing the redhead by the shoulder to disallow escape. "Did you see the little present we left you?"

Sasori did his best to seem composed. "Let go of me," he commanded, pushing Asuma's hand off of himself. "I don't appreciate being touched."

The posse laughed in unison. "I don't think you get it," Genma said, stepping in front of his leader. "_We_ make the rules. We also enforce them. Therefore, we can act against a rebellion in any way we see fir. And, we've got something special planned for you if it doesn't stop. Got it?"

The redhead shrugged. "Why should I be afraid of you? You act all high and mighty, but in reality, you guys are probably all wusses."

Asuma cackled. "Wusses? Oh, that's good. Real good." He held Sasori's neck in a iron grip as he whispered into the redhead's ear: "Those who speak out are bound to get shot down."

------

For the next couple periods, Sasori humored himself, thinking that he wasn't scared of Asuma and his goons. Of course he wasn't. Asuma was all talk. Right?

Wrong.

On his way to seventh period, the redhead was pulled abruptly off his course and into the boys' locker room. Held by the sides of his chest, Sasori hadn't noticed who had grabbed him until he had been thrown to the floor, with Asuma and Genma were standing over him.

"Well, well, look who's joined us," Genma taunted, messing with the hair that had been smooshed over Sasori's forehead. "We got ourselves a freedom fighter."

Asuma grinned lopsidedly. "And remember that special treatment we were talking about? Well, now, you're going to get your just deserts." Leaning behind himself, he called out to someone standing behind a row of lockers. "Oh, Ino! Come on out and say hi to our dear friend Sasori!"

"Yeah, yeah. Don't get a hernia," Ino replied, walking out from behind the metal containers dressed in a skimpy bikini swimsuit.

"Take his shirt off," the head jock instructed to Hayate, who proceeded to partially undressing the captive. Off went both Sasori's sweatshirt and the t-shirt he was wearing underneath, and exposed was his lean build and cutting scars. Ino almost immediately began to laugh.

"Oh, this is good," she crooned like an animal in heat. "Our poor little friend is emo. Well, I got news for you," she continued, pressing herself up against the redhead's bare chest. "I absolutely LOVE fucking emo guys."

Sasori's breaths quickened involuntarily. Rape. Complete with a slut and everything. This was Asuma's sick idea of 'just deserts?' Well, it certainly _would _be torturous.

"Look, you're shaking," the slut commented, since the redhead had began to quiver more violently. "I make you THAT lustful? Then, let's get it on, shall we?" Ino asked rhetorically, beginning to remove Sasori's shorts. The boy currently being molested didn't do anything to stop her, though. What could he do? He was being watched like a hawk by football players who probably took steroids. There was no way he could take on all three alone.

Meanwhile, Ino persisted in humping Sasori, caressing the side of his head and touching him in places that no twelve-year-old wanted to be touched. Ever. Then, the end-of-period bell rang, and Ino got off of him and went off somewhere through the locker room's back door with Asuma and Co. Quickly regaining his bearings, the redhead dressed himself and headed off to his next class.

After this entire ordeal, there was no way that Sasori could consider himself a complete virgin.

--

When he got home that night, he was traumatized, to say the least. Vivid memories of Ino seeing more of him than almost anyone else haunted him, and he still seemed to feel the physical sensations of which are associated with sexual intercourse.

Sasori immediately went downstairs and begun working on yet another puppet. He need to get himself distracted for a while, and nothing was better for that than making art. Except cutting, of course.

Which is exactly what he did when putting together his beloved art didn't help at all.

Fumbling the knife in his hand, he slashed and hacked away at his left wrist. It nullified the traumatic emotions, but it didn't get rid of them It seemed like nothing would. Until he went to wash the blood off. Unbeknownst to Sasori, his cuts had not clotted yet, and as he ran the cold water over his lower arm, he began to bleed more.

Yes. This worked. No more disturbing feelings, no more shellshock. Just a cool, relaxing sensation that took away all of his pain. Sasori loved it, but he shut off the water after a few minutes. No need to bleed himself to death.

Oh well. He had found a way to relieve himself of the trauma without having an orgasm. This was good.

------

The next day, Sasori was yet again pulled off his seventh-period course and into the boys' locker room, where Hayate and Asuma were waiting. "We've got someone new for you today," the jocks jeered, motioning to behind the twelve-year-old.

A temptress laughed. "And, I've heard you have a nice body," she practically purred. "I gotta say, you're pretty cute."

Sasori swallowed. It was Temari, another one of Kurenai's group. Temari was higher in the pecking order than Ino. He worried about what she would do to him.

"Oh, relax," she cooed, wrapping her arm around the redhead's waist. "I won't make you undress completely, like Ino does. Just from your waist down." And so, Temari began doing what the previous slut had done the day before: ease Sasori out of his pants, press her body up against his, and begin doing things that he would never want to experience again unless he REALLY cared for the person with whom he was doing them to. She even French kissed him a couple of times.

Once again, the bell rang, and the girl stopped, exiting from the back door with Asuma just like Ino had.

The redhead redressed himself and headed for eighth period like he had yesterday. Right now, he needed to focus on getting through with the school day.

--

That night, Sasori cut himself like usual, but then he ran water over his two wrists like he had the night before. Only exception was, this didn't work as well as it did the day before, even though he had the faucet turned onto its highest power.

Groaning, Sasori plugged the drain of his sink with the metal stopper, and let the water accumulate in the basin before soaking his arms (or as much of his arms that he could fit into the sink) in it. As the liquid tinted red, he felt the relief once again. Just like before.

--

This routine happened regularly for a few days- Sasori would be pulled into the locker room on the way to seventh period to smex a member of Kurenai's clique. Then, when he got home, he would immediately cut himself and soak whichever part of his body that he had slashed in water to get rid of the pain. Only problem was, each time he did it, Sasori would have to cut more and more to get the same effect. By the time the end of the week rolled around, he had slice marks all the way down his arms and on the sides of his chest. The girls thought these marks to be sexy (I have no idea why), which made them even more horny and they molested him in more ways than he wished to imagine.

But, the hay that broke the camel's back came on Friday, when Sasori was yet again pulled into the Locker Room of Trauma and Ruined Innocence. He wasn't particularly surprised to see Kurenai there this time; they had run out of underlings very fast.

They didn't call her a slut for nothing. Almost instantly after he was dragged in, she tackled Sasori to the ground wearing the same bikini outfit what the others had been. Kurenai then removed Sasori's clothes, kissing him and thrusting herself against him. She was going too far. WAY too far. And Sasori was damn well fed up with what he had been taking for the past week.

Unwilling to let what was happening happen, the redhead kicked the whore off of himself and grabbed his attire, heading out the back door in which Asuma and Co. used.

Hiding himself in the greenery around the school that the garden club lovingly cared for, Sasori dressed himself and ran. He could hear Genma's voice yelling at him, but he wasn't listening. Survival instinct no. 1: when all else fails, run. And that's just what he did. He ran.

Thrusting his front door open and rushing inside, Sasori locked the door. There was NO way that he was chancing letting those creeps inside of his house.

"Oh, Sasori," his grandmother called, "you're home early."

"Yeah, Grandma Chiyo," he replied, heading upstairs. "It was early release day." The old bat was too senile to know that he was lying.

Entering his bathroom, his heart was still beating hard. Disgusting images filled his head; both his innocence AND his virginity had been completely destroyed today. Nothing left to do except cut.

Sasori began to fill the tub. At this point, just cutting his arms/chest and soaking them with water wouldn't work now. He needed to bleed, and bleed he was going to do. Taking out his knife, he began slicing at his body. Up his calf, circle at the knee, continue the cut up to his naval. From his naval, swerving up to his right shoulder, and then making a beeline to his collarbone.

After all the incisions were made, he carefully laid himself into the bathtub. At first, the cuts stung, but soon he felt the soothing sensation he yearned for. And, just as soon, he felt his consciousness slipping away.

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……Yeah. I can't write rape, nor do I really want to, except for the fact that it made Sasori desperate enough to cut himself like that. And this is where the good stuff comes in.

Reviews help Sasori regain consciousness.


	5. How Could You?

Yo, me is back. Chappy five, hooray!

Anyway, ffnet's still having errors with this fic, so I reposted it. I hope that the new version doesn't have all the problems that the first version did. And, if you want updates, you'd best put both versions of this story on your alerts/favorites, since I don't know if I'm going to delete the old edition or not. Let's just see what happens and bear with me, okay? Thanks! Luffles all around. XD

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When he woke up, Sasori found himself in unfamiliar territory- bleak, pure white walls accompanied by a matching ceiling, a single window that was much longer than it was wide, and the smell of what seemed to be either formaldehyde or severe antibiotics mixed with cleaning detergents. Possibly both.

Sitting up and rubbing his forehead, the redhead's chest throbbed painfully, causing him to lay back down. _Wow, _he thought, _I must've really done a number on myself...so much for relief. _Glancing around as much as his current position would let him, he saw a happy-looking Deidara sitting on the windowseat, grinning slightly. "Hello, thar," he said in a playful tone. "You're awake. That's good."

Sasori attempted to sit up again, and this time his chest let him. "Where…am I?" he asked distantly.

The blond shrugged. "Oh, just the hospital. They said that your grandma found you, passed out, in your bathtub. Apparently, you had cut yourself, and then decided that you needed a bath. Stupid, no offence. Oh well, at least they got you here when they did, otherwise you'd probably be dead." He stood up and stretched his arm socket. "Hey, you feeling well enough to chat?"

The redhead held his right side. "Yeah, I think I can manage. Why? You have something to discuss?"

Dei grinned slyly. "Yeah, I guess you could say that," he said, calmly walking over to the door and closing it. Turning to face Sasori, his face had lost its happy demeanor. "What. The. Fuck. Okay, I knew you were a cutter, but this was totally uncalled for!"

Sasori stared in shock. "How did you know about that? I know for SURE I didn't tell you about that…"

The blond grunted. "It wasn't that hard," he replied sharply. "I've seen cutters before. Always long sleeves, reluctant to make friends, and total outcasts. You were wearing a sign around your neck that read, "I'm emo," to me, basically." He turned to look out the window. "Why…why would you do something like this? Even though you cut, you seemed different somehow…Inspired, maybe. Unwilling to die. Aspiring to wonderful, supposedly artistic things! What the hell?!"

The redhead sighed. "I did it because…well, why do you care? I doubt you give a damn about my life. I'm not going to waste my breath explaining it to you."

Dei gave him a glare. "Don't you think I care about you?" he asked with an angry tone. "Dude, I'm your _friend. _That automatically means that I care about what happens to you! Oh my God, and I thought that you'd know that?!" Pacing around the room in a wide circle, he began to think out loud. "So, why do it, Sasori? Were you being hurt or something?"

Sasori stared downward. God, was Dei good at reading people.

"That's it, isn't it? People were hurting you, so you decide to slice your wrists open and make the pain go away? FYI, cutting yourself hurts you _more. _Don't you know that? ...Or did you care?"

The redhead's eyes shifted from the ground to Deidara and back. "Look, Dei, I was being raped. It wasn't just physical pain; it was emotional, too. And, I-"

"Wait, you were being RAPED?! God, why the hell didn't you tell me?! We could've figured this out! We could've stopped it! Good Lord, what got into you?!" Deidara's eyes grew wide with a realization. "It was during seventh period, wasn't it? I know you were absent all through last week, but God…rape? Why the hell would you keep this a secret?!"

Sasori sighed. "Because there's nothing you could've done, okay? Asuma and his gang rule the school. No one would even think to back you up, and there's no way you could go that battle alone. They'd kill you," he answered.

The blond's eyes narrowed. "And _what _do you think I've been doing most of my life? In case you haven't noticed, I'm not that popular. You think it was different in Burbank? Hell no! In fact, until I met Hidan, I was a loner! No one wants to associate with a 'crossdresser' like me, okay? I'm just one of those people that you ignore because they're not worth knowing! Even my own dad hates me. Does THAT give you an idea?"

The other boy got insulted immediately. "Excuse me, but at least you _have _a dad! My parents are dead! Both of them! And I had to watch it happen! Do you know how emotionally scarring that is? Especially if you're seven?"

Deidara's eyebrows furrowed together. "What's good about having a dad if all he does is hurt you?" He turned away from the redhead once again. "Look, truth be told, I absolutely despise cutters. They _choose _to hurt themselves. They _want _it. I, on the other hand, have no choice. I HAVE to endure the torture; they don't. It's not fair. People who want to be hurt choose to hurt themselves, yet those who don't want to get hurt get hurt whether they want to or not." His voice began to crack, as if he was trying to talk while crying. "You have a choice…how unfair is that?! And, on top of cutting yourself, you go and try to bleed yourself to death! How…how could you?" he asked rhetorically, heading out the door he had closed earlier.

"Dei, come on," Sasori began, trying to get the blond to listen to him.

The other boy slowly closed the door behind him. "Please," he said in a flat tone, "it's Deidara."

--

Sasori was allowed to go home on Saturday night. Of course, with his grandmother's old age, he had to walk home. No way was he getting into a car with her driving skills.

Walking down the street, he passed a house with a 'Sold' sign in front of it. Well, someone had just moved. Sasori would never have paid any attention to the house normally, and the only reason he did tonight was because of the rather high-pitched male scream that erupted from the house as he crossed the front lawn.

His interest piqued, he quietly creeped up to the front window to have a look inside. What he saw amazed him.

Inside the newly-furnished home was a large black-haired man standing extremely upright, a golf club in hand. He lowered his gaze to a front corner, and approached slowly…The odd man began swinging the golf club like you would a baseball bat, and he was apparently hitting his target, because with each scream came a male yelp. Kicking whoever he was hitting, he walked away, seemingly pleased with what he had just done.

Sasori sat there a few minutes, waiting for said target to move so that he could identify whoever it was. He was shocked when he did see.

Standing up painstakingly, Deidara made his way across the rectangular window's view and up the carpeted stairs in the right corner. Though his hair was matted and in his face, the redhead could tell that it was bruised.

So this was what Dei had meant when he said that it wasn't fair. His dad, who Sasori assumed was the black-haired man, really did hurt him. Literally. Hastily running home, his thoughts swam. _How long has this been going on? Why is it happening? Why hasn't Dei told anyone? Oh, this is huge…_He was so lost in thought that he hadn't noticed that he was already home, in his upstairs bathroom, and reaching inside of his bathroom cabinet. Wow, he really _was _addicted.

Thinking over what he had just witnessed, Sasori withdrew his hand, no knife. _It really must hurt him to see people who could lead perfectly healthy lives cut themselves,_ he realized. _Well, I'll be one less for Dei to worry about. _And, with that thought, he quit cutting himself.

------

That next Monday, Sasori was a bit worried. He had run out on Asuma, on _school. _If the officials didn't kill him, Asuma would. No one at the establishment seemed to care, though. Either that, or they didn't know what happened. To protect himself, though, the redhead didn't ask.

At lunch, Deidara still sat with Sasori. After all, they had assigned seats now, since there was an 'incident' that no one cared to talk about. Even still, the blond didn't say a word. Not to Sasori, and definitely not to anyone else.

Halfway into the period, the redhead let his curiosity get the best of him. "Hey, Deidara," he started, "are you okay?"

The blond averted his gaze to the side wall, completely ignoring Sasori.

"Um, look, I'm sorry about what happened last week, okay? I know it must pain you and all…but, you can't really blame me for keeping it a secret and being confused, right?"

Deidara was still staring at the wall as he replied. "No, but I _can _blame you for doing something ridiculous and stupid, can't I?"

Sasori hung his head. He was NOT good with apologies. "I'm sorry, alright?" I hadn't realized the extent of your opinion until-"

"Until you spied on me and found out a secret," the blond finished. "Yes, Sasori, I saw you in the window."

"Well, good, because it's Q and A time now. Why haven't you told anyone? I mean, you went on about how stupid I was being because I didn't tell anyone about my predicament, and now you're a hypocrite. What gives?"

Deidara's eyebrows drew together. "Excuse me, but do you know what they do to kids whose parents can't or don't take care of them? Two words: foster care. And there's no way I'm going into that," he stated firmly. "Crazy Cult Priest –Hidan- was in that. He said that he was always devastated whenever he had to move, which was often, since most people didn't approve of his religion's strict rituals. Finally, he found a way to conceal his practices, and that was when he and I met. But, that's a different story. So, he managed to live in Burbank, which is probably where he is right now. So…yeah, you get it." By the time he had finished, the blond's voice had lost its harshness. "But I swear, if you tell anyone, ANYONE, about this, I will personally rip you to shreds and then some. Got it?"

Sasori smiled a bit. Dei had a way of saying things comedically. "Yeah, I got ya. I won't tell anyone, I promise," he said, putting his right hand over his heart. "Scout's honor."

"Are you a boy scout?"

"Tch. No."

The blond sighed with relief. "Oh, that's good. I can't stand Boy Scouts. Anywho, we gotta come up with a plan."

Sasori looked at the other boy, confused. "A plan for what?"

"For getting Asuma back seventh period, of course. What else?"

The redhead stared in shock. "I didn't tell you that he was the one who did it, did i?"

Deidara grinned. "Actually, yes, you did. But, regardless, Asuma's always a suspect. Always."

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Ooooh. A Deidara plan. What could be up the odd one's sleeve? We'll just have to wait and see!

Reviews help Deidara bandage himself after a beating.


	6. Worry

Oh no…Dei's plan…take cover!

Lol, but seriously, Deidara's plans almost always seem to backfire…

I was reading this over, and once again, I'm saying to myself, "Oh my God. What a stupid storyline. Bad writing. Ugh." But, then again, I could just be overly critical…I don't know. You tell me.

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After a bit of conversing, Deidara had a plan all worked out. "So, you got it?" he asked, as Sasori heard out the story.

"Yeah, I got you, but won't that be a little _drastic?_ I mean, that'll be hard to conceal later on today…" he replied incredulously.

"Nothing's too drastic for what they did to you, right? Well, now, it's payback time. Am I right, or am I correct?" the blond asked proudly.

Sasori tapped his fingers on the tabletop nervously. "Okay…but you're the one that's going to set it up. During art, I'm guessing?"

"Fair enough."

--

All throughout art class, Deidara quickly made a few clay birds. Coating them with 'secret glaze,' the stuff that made them explode, he had to hide them from the teacher. NOTHING bothered an art teacher more than if someone was sculpting when they should be sketching and vice versa.

Sasori took his normal course to seventh period. Step one, complete. And, when he was grabbed like usual, he wasn't scared at all. In fact, he was ecstatic. They had fallen right into Dei's trap.

When the first bomb went off, Sasori's would-be captor became surprised, because he had jumped back and let go. **Boom. Boom.** Two more explosive clay statues detonated on cue, and needless to say, whoever had grabbed him was shaking with fear and shock. As the last bombs went off, as part of the plan, the captor's identity was revealed. It was Asuma himself this time. Sasori grinned as he saw the bully's eyes fill with fear and awe. "You better watch your back," the redhead told him in a scary voice, "'cuz this little rebel's got a whole lot of firepower behind him."

The jock stared, obviously dumbstruck. Backing away slowly, he left the scene, and Sasori, untouched.

The triumphant boy continued to seventh period. Something told him that Asuma wouldn't be bothering him anymore.

--

"Hey, thanks for the help, Dei," the redhead said to the blond as he worked on a grammar worksheet during English class. "He was scared shitless. I doubt he'll ever bother either of us again."

Deidara shook his head as he scribbled in some editing marks. "Well, he'll ignore you, mostly," he said, tapping his pen again the side of the desk he was sitting at. "He doesn't know that I was in on it."

"Yeah, but you hang around me, therefore, if he won't bother me, and you're around me, it's a given that he'll ignore you, too. Trust me on this one, Dei; bullies don't normally pick on someone when they're around their friends," the redhead assured.

The blond sighed. "Well, if you're that sure about it…and who said you could start calling me Dei again?"

Sasori shrugged. "We're friends, aren't we?"

"Yeah, I guess…so, you can call me that…but only a little bit! No wearing it out! Okay?"

"Er, okay…"

------

Over the next few days, Deidara began acting extremely strange. He would have severe mood swings, being exuberant and happy the first minute, and then sullen and nasty the second, and began spacing out terribly during physical activities, like walking and running. When Sasori asked about the sudden change in character, the blond simply smiled and said, "It's just my new allergy medicine. Nothing to worry about, really. I'm fine."

The redhead wanted to believe that, but something told him that there was something wrong with Dei. And, his fears came true that Thursday afternoon.

It was eighth period social studies, and they were told to work in groups. Naturally, the room was abuzz with voices and noises, something that would normally never bother anyone.

Anyone, except Deidara, that is.

Sasori and the blond were in the same group, as usual, discussing Julius Caesar's rise to power. Everything was seemingly normal, until Dei spaced out severely in mid-sentence. Dropping the pen that he was holding, his visible eye grew wide, and he immediately curled up into a tight ball, with his hands over is ears and head on his knees.

The other boy, worried, gently shook Deidara's shoulder. "Hey, Deidara? Dei, you okay?"

"Too bright…too bright and too loud…" the blond chanted softly. "Ow…It hurts…make it stop…"

"What hurts? The lights? The noise?"

Deidara scrunched himself up more. "AH! IT HURTS, IT HURTS! STOP IT, STOP IT!" he wailed.

The redhead let go of Dei's arm. Sensitivity to light and sound. Weren't those common side effects from allergy medicines? Leaving the blond alone, Sasori continued working. This little episode should be over in a few minutes.

It wasn't. The end-of-period bell rang, and Dei was still isolating himself, screeching when the loud bell sounded. "Too loud!!"

Sasori, who was even more concerned now, spoke softer to his friend. "Dei," he whispered, "the period's over. On to our next classes."

The blond whimpered. "But, it hurts…real bad…I can't, I can't…"

Sighing, the redhead picked Deidara up (ever so carefully), cradling him by his knees and chest, and took him to the school clinic. "I think _you_'d better get down to the nurse's office," he whispered again.

Dei laid his head in the crook of Sasori's neck. "No…don't leave me there…I hate nurses…"

"Well, you seem to have a lot of dislikes, don't you?"

"No…you've just exploited most of them."

--

After dropping the other boy off at the clinic (much to his disdain), Sasori got a hall pass and continued to ninth period. Lord knows that the despotic math teacher would blow a gasket if he didn't have an excuse for being late.

When the gruff teacher's algebra lesson had concluded, the redhead got what he needed from his locker and headed down to the nurse. Chances were that Deidara was still down there. And, he was. In fact, when Sasori got into the office, the blond was still curled up into a ball, except now he was laying on his side. He was breathing heavily, so the other boy approached with caution. "H-hey, you alright over there?" he asked softly. "Dei?"

Deidara crunched himself up even more and gritted. "Ah…what?" he asked through his teeth.

The redhead set his backpack down and stroked the blond's side. "C'mon, Dei," he whispered again, "it's the end of the school day. Time to go home."

Dei sat up and rubbed his temple. "Eh, okay, if you say so," he replied in a meek voice. "Oh my God, what the hell happened?"

Sasori shrugged. "Well, we were in social studies, working on that Julius Caesar essay that we're supposed to have done, when you suddenly spaced out and withdrew yourself, screaming about how it was too loud and too bright. So, I brought you down here, despite your dislike of nurses, and here we are. Interesting story, right?" he said, adding the last part sarcastically.

"Well, actually, it IS an interesting story. I mean, I know that sensitivity to light and sound are standard medicine side effects, but I had no idea that they'd be this brutal. Hell, my ears are still ringing," the blond commented, standing up. "Wow. Ahm'uhn (I'm going to) take myself off of that stuff…well, anyways, thanks for the help, Sasori. See ya tomorrow," he finished, walking out the door painstakingly.

"Yeah, okay," Sasori replied. "Tomorrow."

--

When he got home, Sasori busied himself in his basement. Now that he had quit cutting, he had a good 20 minutes more to work on his art. Sanding a piece of wood, he began to contemplate what had happened that day. _Dei and I got Asuma back for what he did to me, but what now? Will he retaliate somehow, and when? Aside from that, what kind of allergy meds was Dei taking? That _was_ a pretty bad side effect…and I doubt the FDA'd put that one on the market if it was _that _bad. Maybe he has a weird blood condition that causes those severe attacks. Or maybe the allergy medicine's reacting with another prescription he's taking. Or maybe he's _not _taking any medicine, and his brain's malfunctioning. Woah, what if he- _Sasori stopped himself mid-thought. _Stop worrying, _he told himself. _Come on, you KNOW that kind of thinking makes you even more anxious. Dei's fine,_ he convinced himself.

Still, he couldn't help but wonder…

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Relatively short, I know. More writer's block with this chappy. XP

Anyways, this fanfic is NOT going to live up to Manicurist. I just know it. ((sigh)) Oh well, I guess I'll keep posting it for the hell of it…

Reviews make Sasori less of a worrywart.


	7. Hurt

Yays, yays, yays for author's notes! Yes, I know I'm weird. Weird and loving it. :)

Anyways, ffnet's decided to do some 'essential upgrades,' so I don't know how those are going to blow over when I post this chapter, or if it'll be like the last time they did bug fixes and screwed up the chapter counts…oh well. Let's wait and see, shall we?

And, from now on, I shall censor the "f" word in this fanfic, since a few readers' computers do not load pages that have the swear word on them. So, I just replace the vowel with a '-', and there we go. The rest of you guys can use your imaginations for the rest, right? Yes, you can. Okay?

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That Wednesday, Sasori came to school to find a slew of huge posters plastered up onto the walls. 'Go, team! Fight! Win!' they obnoxiously advertised, with various basketball-themed pictures accommodating each. The jocks were being as obnoxious as the posters, strutting down the hall like they owned the place and flirting with girls, regardless of their dating status.

The redhead almost gagged. Gaudy school colors, egomaniac jocks, horny girls. NEVER a good mix.

Homeroom exerted the same abhorrent ecstasy as the halls had, and Sasori was more than happy that Deidara wasn't joining into the retarded sports merriment. Thank God, someone sane.

Taking up a seat next to the blond, he asked, "So, what's with all the sports stuff? You know anything about it?"

Dei shrugged. "They're having a basketball game on Friday," he replied. "First game of the season, apparently against our rival school. It'll be held in the gym, and almost everyone's going. Whee," he finished, adding the last part sarcastically.

The other boy groaned. "School sports. Joy, oh joy, oh heavenly bliss."

"Which must be Sasorian for, "Oh, Lord. You'd have to pay me a LOT more than what Trump makes to get me to go to that shit," the blond said with a smile.

Sasori shrugged. "Yeah, pretty much. Wow, you're already fluent in my native tongue. You must be a very fast learner."

"Well, actually, I took a class," Dei replied as a joke. "The teacher was REALLY annoying, but it's all good," he said, laughing.

The redhead laughed along. If nothing, Deidara had a promising career as a comedian.

--

Good news was, Asuma hadn't given either Dei nor Sasori any trouble for two whole days. Bad news was, now Kurenai was an instigator now. It appeared as though she was extremely angry with how Sasori had run out on their forced love affair, and it was time, she thought, to get back at him.

It started with a simple conversation with Deidara. The slut had randomly come up to him and started talking as though they had known each other forever, blathering on about hair, makeup, and other girly things that Dei couldn't give less of a f-ck about. But, to be polite, the blond heard her out. Nothing worse than getting a queen bee like her upset with you.

Next, she began following Deidara around, even though they had completely different class schedules. Dei, nervous about having a stalker, tried desperately to lose her. Nothing seemed to work.

What she did thirdly came during lunch, when she insisted on sitting next to the blond at Sasori's table. Completely ignoring the redhead, Kurenai got her hands all over Deidara, stroking his hair and playfully poking him. Dei, annoyed as hell by the sudden affection, told her to go away numerous times, which she did eventually do.

After she had totally made out with him, of course.

Sasori had stopped eating when all of a sudden, the slut pulled Deidara's head over and began kissing him multiple times in a row. She was all over him, and the blond immediately tried to push her off. "Away, whore!" he yelled out, shoving her out of the chair she was sitting in and stomping off.

Kurenai, needless to say, was insulted, and promptly made her way back to her usual lunch table. Well, that was one way to get rid of a slut.

--

After ninth period, Sasori headed for his locker as usual. But, he was genuinely surprised to see Kurenai waiting for him.

"Aw, Sasori-chan," she cooed, "Did I hurt you good?"

The redhead gave her a WTF look. "Uh, no," he replied. "Why should I be 'good and hurt?' What did you do?"

Her eyes lowered. "Oh, you know," she growled, "and it was for running out on me last Friday. That damn girly-"

"Woah, is this about you making out with Deidara?" Sasori asked, acting surprised. "THAT was supposed to hurt me?"

"Of COURSE it was! That's why I did it! God, don't you know _anything?! _You're supposed to feel hurt and heartbroken when I kiss your beloved! God," she repeated. "Aren't you?!"

"No," he replied. "You're supposed to feel confused and sickened when you see the school slut make out with your best friend in front of you, especially if you're eating. God, don't _you _know anything?" he asked rhetorically, unfazed.

Kurenai, fed up, stomped off. "You're both hopeless beyond belief!" she yelled.

Once the slut had gotten a safe distance away, Sasori let out a sigh of relief. Lucky for him he was a good liar, since the kiss _had _hurt him. He didn't know why, though. Deidara was a guy, therefore Sasori was not in love with him. Right? Or, maybe…or maybe Sasori was bi. Or gay. Whatever the case, the redhead banished the thought. _Just focus on getting home, _he told himself.

------

_God, I wish Grandma Chiyo would tell me that I need to deliver something to Kankurou and Gaara _before _nine o'clock at night, _Sasori thought to himself, scuffing his feet as he walked. It was Thursday night, a day after the whole Kurenai-jealousy thing, and he had just taken a gelatin dessert to his grandmother's good friends, Hiroki and Niri, parents of Kankurou and Gaara. The redhead was rather acquainted with the pair, Kankurou being two years younger than he was and Gaara four. Temari, a year older than Sasori, was their older sister. Poor guys, they have a slut for a sibling.

Sasori slipped his way down Deidara's street, half asleep. It was somewhere around 10:30 at night, and since he had quit cutting, he had been going to bed earlier.

Passing by the blond's house, he heard a terrifyingly painful wail emit from it. Awoken by this, the redhead backed up a few hundred yards or so when a door-slamming sound became audible. The black-haired man from before hastily walked down the driveway, screaming, "Bleed, ungrateful gay little bastard! Bleed and DIE!!" Getting into an old, red pickup truck, he sped down the road, apparently wanting to get as far away from where he was as fast as possible.

His heart beating heavily, the redhead stared at the house for a bit, wondering what had gone on between the androgynous kid and his abusive father. Realizing that Dei was probably extremely hurt, he rushed through the unlocked door. In his blind rage, the despot had forgotten to lock up.

Deidara lay in a bloody heap in the corner of the room. His hair had been pulled forcibly from its normal sloppy ponytail, his torso had been both hit and cut badly, and his limbs lay useless as the boy desperately tried to breath.

Looks like _someone _had a bad temper.

Slowly approaching his friend, Sasori stumbled. Seeing your best friend covered in blood and lying like a corpse on the floor can REALLY screw up a person's mental stability for the moment. "D-Dei?" he started, after picking himself off the floor. "Dei, what happened? I know for a fact that you're not okay."

No answer. The blond either had no energy to reply, or he simply didn't want to.

Kneeling down, Sasori lifted his friend's head up, revealing a trickle of red coming from the corner of his mouth. "Dei," he repeated, "Dei, please be awake…"

The blond weakly opened one eye, his right, and gave the redhead a sad, pitiful stare. "Sasori…" he called out distantly, "since when has your hair changed colors like that? It was green before, but now it's orange…scratch that, make it purple…"

Wow. That allergy medicine was harsh on one's eyesight, too. "Dei…Deidara…what did he do to you?" he asked, lovingly stroking the left side of the other boy's face. Feeling a cold sensation, Sasori withdrew his hand immediately. What had he touched? Brushing away the hair that normally covered the left side of Deidara's face, he stared in horror. In place of an eye, a cheekbone and a temple was a shiny, black, metallic casing with some sort of robotic ocular.

Dei's one, organic eye shifted to look up at a fear-stricken Sasori. "Ah," he whispered, "my one best-kept secret. Only, I guess it's not a secret anymore." Closing his eye, he sighed. "Well, I guess you were going to find out sooner or later."

Carefully, the redhead cradled his friend up against himself, with Deidara's head once again laying in the crook of his neck. "What…what happened? How long…?" he managed to get out, as the other boy's body limpened.

The blond let out a sickly sigh. "Tired," he mouthed.

Sasori gently shouldered one of Deidara's arms. One thing in this new confusion was certain: Dei needed professional help. Painstakingly, he dragged them both up to the local hospital.

------

The redhead couldn't concentrate at all during school the next day. No matter what he did, he couldn't get his mind off of his friend, whom he had helped hospitalized the night before. Puzzling memories mixed with raw emotion and the fact that Sasori was about to pass out during the entire thing left vivid sensations that haunted him.

He had tried to get Deidara to the hospital as quickly as possible, and although he didn't weigh a lot, it took all of Sasori's strength to get there when they did. Unfortunately, Dei's blood hadn't clotted yet, so it appeared as though the malicious father of his had beat up on the both of them. It was so bad, in fact, that the moment they 'walked' in, a nurse gasped so hard that she forgot to let the breath out. Another, more composed hospital employee had helped the blond off Sasori and into a room with plenty of antiseptic, gauze and Ace bandages. Deidara would be set until the bleeding stopped.

Sasori had not been able to follow his friend, however, for fear of contaminating a perfectly sterile room. With the patient in as bad of a condition as Dei was, it seemed that they couldn't afford to take any chances. Which suited the redhead fine. He'd rather have his friend safe and healthy after a period of absence than see him every day and endanger him.

--

Sasori headed out the door, as he normally did, after the last bell. He had waited a bit for the crowds to clear, though; Lord knows that the halls would be packed with people going to the basketball game. Peachy.

Walking down the new-empty hall, a huge force suddenly slammed the redhead up against the lockers to the side of him. Sasori's body limply went through the motions. He had absolutely no fighting spirit left.

That was, until he saw who pushed him.

Genma stared down at the redhead with a hawk's eyes, piercing and overpowering. "Hello, there, Saso-kun," he growled.

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Okay, if this chapter is late, I apologize. The website had this weird error going around, and it just wouldn't let me update my fanfics (or change my profile, or reply to reviews, etc.). So, yeah. Gomen for that.

Reviews help Deidara heal, both physically and emotionally.


	8. Embrace the Insanity

Mwahaha. Embrace the insanity, peoples. :D

And, this is NOT the basketball game in which Sasori and Dei meet Kisame. That's a year later than this. Just making that clear.

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"Hello, there," Genma replied, glaring down at Sasori.

The redhead could feel the heat of fear rising inside of him. What could this guy want? Asuma was taken care of. "What, Genma?" he asked, faking irritation. "I don't have time to deal with the likes of you."

The jock let out a small laugh. "Don't have time? Oh, I think you're confused about your lace in the social ladder." He took Sasori by the shoulders and thrust him up against the lockers behind him. "Listen here, kid. You must think you're _so _awesome just because you caught Asuma off guard, right? Well, I got news for you. He sent me to put you back in your place. And now, during the game, no one will come to save you, even if you scream. Damn those loud crowds, eh?" Genma snickered a bit more. "Oh, how much fun I will have," he crooned. Letting go, he got in an underhand punch to the redhead's stomach.

Coughing up blood, Sasori was stunned. It was as if Asuma had sent an assassin to do him under. Scary. In self-defense, he grabbed Genma's arm and twisted it, like he was giving the bully Indian rug burn.

His one arm still in the redhead's grasp, Genma swung his right knee around and extended his leg abruptly, knocking Sasori in the chest and throwing him up against the wall of metal rectangles.

The other boy, a trickle of blood coming from the corner of his mouth, loosely went along with the action. From worrying about Deidara, he had forgotten to eat both breakfast and lunch, and hadn't slept too well the night before. He was in no condition to fight. Watching as the jock raised a fist for another punch, Sasori braced himself. However, the hit never came. Someone had seized the jock's fist and was holding it back. Not an idiot, Sasori stepped out of the line of fire, positioning himself so that he could see the mysterious savior.

He was about Sasori's age, had long, black hair pulled back into a neat ponytail, and he had huge bags under his eyes. The loose t-shirt and oversized jeans he was wearing emphasized the fact that he was slenderly built, yet he seemed to be able to hold back Genma's fist without any trouble. "Now, what were you doing?" the boy asked, in what seemed to be the most monochromatic voice that Sasori had ever heard. "Come on now, was there a reason that you were trying to beat up on this kid?"

Genma said nothing, absolutely stunned by what the stranger had just done.

"Well? No answer?" he asked, tightening his grip. "I guess that means that you _didn't _have a liable excuse, and therefore you must be punished." Using his free hand, the boy pinched a spot on the jock's neck, and the bully instantly dropped to the floor, unconscious.

The stranger turned toward Sasori. "That guy was bothering you?" he asked, in a lighter monotone, though he obviously knew the answer.

The redhead nodded reluctantly. "Y-yeah…thanks for the help," he said, rubbing the back of his head meekly. "I'm a little off today…"

The other boy shook-waved his hand at Sasori, a gesture that normally meant, 'it's all good, don't worry about it.' "No problem. Name's Itachi," he introduced.

Sasori relaxed a bit. "Hey. Mine's Sasori." Noticing the writing on the kid's t-shirt, he made a realization. "Woah, you're from that rival school, aren't you?"

The black-haired boy shrugged. "We're only rivals if you think of it that way, but yes. And, that means that you go to this school, correct?"

The redhead nodded. "Yup. So, why are you in the hallways, anyway? I mean, shouldn't you be out in the stands…?" he asked, curious.

Itachi stomped on Genma's head. "Well, I only came to the game to see what it was like, and when I found out how boring it was, I decided to leave. Which is when I saw you in your…situation. Naturally, I stepped in to help, and now, here we are." He kicked the bully a few times. "So, what'd you do to get him all mad at you like that?"

Sasori shrugged. "Oh, my best friend dresses like a male skank, and he's all 'I-don't-care-what-you-think' about it, and Asuma, the head jock, didn't like that. So, when I started standing up for Dei, he started doing things to me that I REAALY didn't like. My friend and I got back at him, but he had sent Genma –the dude you just kicked- to 'put me back in my place.' Weird how things work out, right?"

"Assuming that this 'Dei' is your best friend, then yes, they do have a way of working out for the better in the end," Itachi replied, looking around. "Well, is he here? I think I'd like to meet him."

"No," the redhead replied sadly. "He's hospitalized right now because of an accident. I don't know when he's supposed to get out, though. I was going to go visit him after school, but this entire thing happened, and…well, you know the rest."

The black-haired kid's gaze lowered, disappointed. "Oh, okay…some other time, then?"

The other boy grinned. "Sure. Maybe the next time our two teams play against each other." The redhead was genuinely happy. He hadn't expected the odd, extremely strong stranger to be this friendly.

Itachi shrugged in agreement. "You got it."

------

"I'm sorry, we're not allowing visitors to see him," a nurse's voice said, when Sasori asked where Deidara's room was.

The redhead frowned. "What do you mean, no visitors?!" he asked in a fluctuating voice. He had been looking forward to seeing his friend all day; this was the reason he had dragged himself through school. And now some wimpy-voiced nurse was telling him the his access was denied?

"I'm sorry, but you're friend is in critical condition," she told him. "He's much too weak to see anybody, and even if I did let you in, there's no promise that he'd stay awake through the entire visit. From what I've seen, he's taken a huge toll."

Sasori glared at the frail-looking woman. He _knew_ that Deidara had taken a huge toll. That was why he had dragged the blond all the way to the hospital: to make sure that he was safe, and in a place where he would be almost guaranteed to get better. But, who were they to shut Dei out from the outside world? "But, ma'am-"

"Look, there's nothing I can do," she said, cutting him off. "No visitors means no visitors. Come back in a couple of days; I'm sure he'll be well enough by then to talk to you. Okay?"

------

'A couple of days' ended up being a couple of weeks, Sasori found out. It seemed as though the more the doctors inspected Deidara, the more banged-up he became, and the nurses had been explaining to Sasori that the blond was having an assortment of different treatments that was extending his quarantine. As far as he was concerned, though, they just wanted to prevent him from seeing his friend.

When they did let the redhead in, however, he was pulled off to the side by a female doctor with purple, cropped hair and a stethoscope around her shoulders. "Listen, Sasori," she whispered. "I know you've been trying to see Dei ever since he was admitted, but be warned: he may not be who you remember him to be. I'll let him explain why, but…just make sure you're a bit open, okay?"

The boy nodded. "Yes, ma'am," he replied, wondering how the doctor knew his name. Pushing the thought aside, he headed for Dei's room.

--

When he opened the door to the hospital room, Deidara was sitting on his hospital bed, hugging his knees and watching some sort of comedy show.

Sasori stepped lightly. "Hey, Dei," he said, walking over to his friend. "What's up?"

The blond simply sat on his bed watching the 'tube, ignoring him.

The redhead waved his hand in front of Deidara's face. "Hey, you brain-dead or something?"

Dei immediately whipped his head around. "Oh, you were talking to me? Sorry, sir," he apologized with a laugh. "My bad. Well, anyway, hi, Sasori, yeah."

"And the wonder child does it again. Oh well, whatever. Hey, a doctor told me something about you not being who you used to be. Weird, right?" the other boy asked playfully.

The blond's gaze drifted downward. "Actually, Sasori, I have a confession…remember that light-and-sound sensitivity attack I had a while back? Well, that wasn't because of allergy medicine. I…I had tried heroin the night before."

Sasori's face filled with shock. What was he saying?

"See, my dad's beatings have been getting worse and worse…and I needed something to, oh, I 'unno, relieve myself, I guess. I had heard that heroin was a downer drug, and I…I…" Deidara's voice began to shake. "Oh my God, how could I have been so stupid? Stupid!" he yelled out, putting his head on his knees.

The redhead sighed. "Yes, Dei, that _was _stupid, but what do drugs have to do with your health?" he asked. "I know they're bad for you, but come on…"

The blond pulled himself together. "Well, have you ever heard that using crack even once can cause permanent brain damage, yeah? Um, it seems that heroin has the same effect, and... and my body's just all weird, and…well, now, I'm insane. Officially."

"What?!"

"I'm insane, yeah. At least, not majorly. The heroin, when it worked it's way through my system, it got all up in my brain and shut down some terminal-thingies. So, now, I guess my creativeness is going to be through the roof," he clarified. "Cool, yeah? No, probably not."

Sasori gave him a very worried glance. "Dei, which terminal-thingies shut down? Are you…are you going to be able to function like a normal person?"

"I think so," Deidara said with a shrug. "I 'unno, really. The doctors said something about cognitive skills, speaking patterns and problem-solving, yeah. I think you've already noticed the speech pattern."

"Dei…Dei…that's horrible…oh my God, what are we going to do now? I mean, if your dad beat you before, what's he going to do with you in your current state? Good Lord…" the redhead started, pacing around the room. "Oh, God…you said you didn't want to go into foster care, but what's left? Oh my-"

"Danna, calm down," Dei soothed. "We'll figure out something."

Sasori stopped pacing abruptly. "WHAT did you just call me? Donna?"

"No, Sasori, not _Donna. _Danna. With two a's. Okay, it's the Japanese word for 'master,' and God knows you've earned the title," he explained, playing with his hair. "Ahm'uhn call you that 'cuz you saved me. Yeah?"

"Er, okay, whatever..." the redhead agreed. Boy, he wasn't kidding. He _was _insane. "You can call me that, I guess, but only if you agree to meet this guy I met today," he bargained, remembering Itachi. "He said that he really wanted to meet you."

The blond shrugged. "Sure. But once I get out of the hospital, yeah. I doubt he wants to meet me in one of these hospital-patient-gown-things," he said, referring to the white garments with the open backs that patients were forced to wear.

Sasori laughed at this. "Yeah, okay. Deal."

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Dei is insane. Ha, he can join the club. :) :F Oh, and SPEEDY UPDATE! Yeah. XD

Anyways, reviews make Itachi a little less inclined to disrespect the people that he beats in fights.


	9. Confessing Love

Ugh. Sorry for the 'lateness' of this chapter, I was on a mini-vacation at a waterpark resort, and it was BOORING. Luckily, one of my friends came along and we kept each other occupied.

This is part one of my SasoDei fix for this story. Please bear with my fangirl-ness.

Don't own Rice Crispy treats, however you spell it.

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Deidara had come back to school a few days after Sasori's visit, and it was evident that something was wrong with him. During homeroom, the blond began laughing hysterically for no apparent reason, and when asked what he was laughing at, he simply shrugged and mumbled something about evil mole people. In science class, he didn't remember anything about what they had been discussing before his little episode, so when called upon to answer a question, he made something totally random up to appease the teacher (who didn't exactly approve of Deidara's creativity). At lunch, he 'sculpted' his food before eating it, stacking it into skyscrapers and roadways and somehow creating cars from Rice Crispy wrappers. In art, he was his normal self (everyone acted stupid in art, besides Sasori), but English was a repeat of science and then some.

Sasori began to worry about what people would think of the new Dei. He hardly thought that 'lunatic' was a name that the blond wanted to be added to the long list of taunts and swear words that he was called on a daily basis.

On the bright side, Deidara was a bit more confident in himself (or, rather, more happy about being confident about himself). When someone had called him a fag openly in social studies, he had yelled at them loud enough for their rival school to hear. "So what if I'm gay?! So what if I'm bi?! What do you care?! And, FYI, I'm bi and LOVING IT! F-uck you if you don't agree!!" he finished, sticking his tongue out and returning to the graphic organizer that he was working on beforehand. No one called him a fag from then on. At least, not to his face.

--

When school ended that day, Deidara met Sasori at his locker. Leaning on the metal box next to the redhead's metal storage box, he became pink in color. "Uh…Danna?" he asked uncertainly.

Slamming the locker shut, Sasori looked up. "Yeah? What?"

"Er, I was just wondering…well, can I come over and do your nails?"

The other boy stood in shock. Was Dei offering him a manicure? "Uh, sure, I guess…but wait, what?!"

Deidara shifted his weight so that he was now in a standing position. "Can I come over and do your nails? I mean, no reason, but it's just like…I 'unno, I guess your cuticles are bothering me, and, um…well, I wondered if you would let me do it, and…yeah."

Sasori shrugged. "If you want to, why not?" He figured that if he painted his nails, it would help Dei's cause of defeating mass homophobia. The blond's were already a shiny black, so that was probably what he was going to paint his (Sasori's). Deidara's nails had been that same color the entire time he had been at the school, after all. "Tomorrow after school, I guess. See ya," the redhead said, turning his back and leaving.

"Okay, then! Tomorrow it is!" Deidara called back, going in the opposite direction. "Bye, Danna!"

--

After he got home, Sasori found an email in his inbox that had an address he didn't recognize and his name in the subject line. Convinced that it _had _to be someone he knew, opened it and read it.

**Hey, Sasori. I hope I'm spelling your name right. Anyway, it's Itachi, the kid you met a few weeks ago back at the basketball game. The one from the incident. (Need I say more?)**

**Well, as you probably know, there's a game coming up between our two schools in two days. I was wondering if that guy you wanted me to meet is coming or not. I'd like to meet him, and I'm only going if you guys are. **

**It's at my school, fyi. You know where that is, right?**

Sasori, stunned, typed up a reply:

**We'll be there, so you'd better be. And where'd you get my email address?**

Hitting 'send,' the redhead began to speculate about what Itachi might think of Deidara. Would he make fun of him because of his hair and attire? No, Itachi said that he wanted to meet Dei _because _of that. Would they get along? He didn't know Itachi that well, so he wasn't able to calculate that. _Oh well, _he thought, shutting down his computer. _I'll just have to wait and see. _

------

After school the next day, Sasori heard the doorbell ring as he began to put a puppet together. Annoyed, he stomped up the staircase and went to answer the door. There were only two things that REALLY angered the artist, which were waiting/making people wait and being interrupted. The second was the more prominent one.

Pushing the door open, he was surprised to find Dei standing on his doorstep. "Uh, hi," the blond said nervously. "Can I come in, yeah?"

The redhead had totally forgotten that Deidara was supposed to come over. "Y-yeah. Sorry, it kinda slipped my mind that you were coming," he apologized frantically.

The blond shrugged. "That's okay. What does it matter now, anyway? I'm here."

--

"So THIS is your basement, yeah?" Deidara asked, walking around the concrete-paved cellar. "Kinda bleak, don't ya think?"

Sasori shrugged. "I don't know; maybe to you. But, see, there's a T.V., a couch, and a DVD player down here, not to mention all the wood I could want or need."

"Wood?"

"Yeah. For puppets. In the far right corner, where that desk-table thing is, is where I put all my carving tools, saws and other stuff I use. It's my workshop, I guess," he explained.

Dei laughed. "Workshop, yeah? Well, I guess you _do _make dolls there…hey, do you think Santa would hire you as an elf? You're certainly short enough, and it's SO hard to find good woodworking skills these days…" he joked.

Sasori's eyebrows immediately came together. "For the last time, Deidara, art is not for playing with, it is for admiring. Get that through your messed-up skull. And, what makes you think I believe in Santa Claus? I'm short, but not young."

"Well, what happens if Santa _is _real then, hm? Then he'll come and give out presents to all the good little boys and girls who believe in him, and you'll be stuck here without a toy or whatever," the blond retorted in a serious tone.

The other boy slapped his forehead. "Oh my God, Dei, you can't be serious…you can't seriously believe in Santa…"

"And why can't I? I'm allowed to be childish if I want to, just like I can be mature if I want to. It's all in perspective, Danna," Deidara replied, tapping his index finger against his temple.

Sasori sighed. This was a losing battle. "Yeah, whatever…"

--

"Oh-KAY, Danna, go like this," Deidara said, sprawling his hand out on Sasori's bedroom floor.

The redhead obliged. "So, let me get this straight, you're going to paint my nails whore-red because it matches my hair and eyes?"

"Yup. It's either red or hot pink, yeah, but I don't think you want pink nails. So we'll stick with red," the other boy confirmed, unscrewing the top of the red nail polish bottle. Rancid fumes spread through the room as the blond began meticulously brushing the varnish onto Sasori's fingernails. "I know it smells, yeah," he said, "but it'll go away in a bit. I promise."

Sasori didn't mind the smell as much as he minded his room, though. His floor was hardwood, and mail polish was notorious for its staining abilities. "Just don't spill any, okay?"

In a half-hour or so, the redhead had nails to match his hair. It was needless to say that Deidara had done a good job, since there was no spilt polish anywhere, and his cuticles and the sides of fingers where it raises up before the nail starts (you know what I'm talking about, right?) were completely uncolored. "Wow, Dei," he marveled, inspecting the ends of his fingers. "You're really good at this."

Dei smiled sheepishly. "Uh, yeah, I guess. I've had a lot of practice. Anyway, can I ask you something?"

Sasori, getting up and sitting on top of his bed, nodded. "Sure. Shoot."

"Er, yeah, this is kind of personal," the other boy continued, joining Sasori on top of his bed, "but have you ever…fell in love? Like, you _know _that it's not a crush, but you don't want to say anything?"

The redhead held his ankles as he sat cross-legged. "Well," he said, glancing up at the ceiling, "I don't really think I have. I mean, there was this one girl, but I was over her really fast. Why?"

The blond shifted his gaze downward. "No reason," he answered. "I was just curious, yeah…do you remember in social studies the other day? When I yelled at that kid for calling me a fog, and then said that I was bi? Well, erm…forgive me."

Sasori didn't have a chance to react. Pushing down on his shoulders, Deidara had rocked the other boy onto his back and laid on top of him, letting their lips touch. A few seconds went by, and the blond moved his head to the side of Sasori's cheek. "I'm sorry," he whispered.

The redhead was stunned. His best friend had just…wow. The kiss…the kiss had sparked in his mouth, and with his blond hair so close to his face…And, Dei's body on top of his own…how warm, how cuddly, even………he hated to admit it, but it was all so… _pleasurable. _No, not that, more liked needed. Wanted. Almost-

Sasori stopped himself. What was he thinking?! The blond was his _friend, _not his lover. He had said so himself. But, even still, he couldn't help himself. Wrapping his arms around the other boy's body, he rolled the both of them over to their side. "Deidara…" he said quietly, "what…what are you doing?"

Deidara pulled himself up against Sasori more, brushing their faces alongside each other. "Confessing love, yeah," he replied, lowering his head onto his friend's. "I don't know what this'll do to our friendship or whatever, but I can't ignore my feelings. I love you, Danna. There's nothing I can do."

The redhead didn't say anything to contradict the blond. Instead, he pulled the covers over himself, and over Deidara, completely hiding them from the outside world. "You don't need to do anything, Dei," he replied, letting the blond lay next to him. Maybe this…maybe _this _is why Sasori began liking Deidara (as a friend) in the first place. Fate had obviously brought them together, and who was either of them to deny that?

Lulled by the blond's warmth, Sasori drifted off into sleep. And there he lay, for the rest of the night…

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Nya. I love shonen-ai fluff. XD

This chapter is the result of insomnia and the Goo Goo Dolls.

Isn't Dei just a breath of fresh air? I absolutely love writing him. Totally fun.

Reviews help Sasori sort out his feelings.


	10. Meeting Itachi

Part two of my SasoDei fix. Hope you liked it, cuz I did. :)

This chapter was kind of forced…sorry. I had to get from Point A to Point B, and…yeah, you get it.

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That next morning, Sasori awoke to a warm breath on his neck and soft hair in his face. Opening his eyes, he saw that he and Deidara were still in an embrace from the night before, and the blond's head was still resting on his own. Lightly running his fingers up and down Deidara's back, he noticed that they were both still clothed. This was good.

He also noticed other, insignificant things, like the warm, clean scent of the straw-blond hair, the softness of his relatively short eyelashes, and the gentle rising and falling of his chest as he breathed. Caressing the side of Dei's head that wasn't touching his own, Sasori felt the metal the made up most of the other boy's left side. It was cool, smooth, and greatly contrasted with the warm skin that existed on its borders. Surprisingly, though, he wasn't disgusted by it. Not at all. Rather, Sasori loved it, counting it as another perfect thing in heaven.

Then, his alarm went off.

BREEP. BREEP. BREEP. The obnoxious little device seemed to scare Deidara, because upon hearing it, the boy immediately jumped, pulling himself out of the embrace.

The redhead sat up, half-asleep. How he _despised _that alarm. "Ugh…you awake?" he asked groggily, hitting the 'off' button on his digital clock.

The blond breathed heavily. "Well, I'm awake now…how can you wake up peacefully with that thing?!" he demanded, holding his chest. "Whoa…hey, what time is it?"

Sasori picked up the clock to look at it. "Oh, it's 6:30," he replied with a yawn.

"OH MY GOD!" Dei yelled, almost leaping out of bed. "I gotta get home and change! It's a school day! Ah! Sorry, Danna, I gotta go!" he continued, running out of Sasori's room and down the stairs.

The other boy blinked after he heard a 'slam' from downstairs. The closest thing that he ever wanted to get to a one-night stand, and it was with his same-sex best friend. What a perplexing world it was.

------

Loud voices and crowd noises filled the gymnasium when the two artists entered. People were really getting into it: many of them had painted their faces, almost all of them were wearing their school colors and rude, team-bashing phrases run amok over the excited basketball fans. Sasori was immediately overwhelmed by this scenario. He absolutely hated big crowds, and the noises from the stands made his ears throb.

Deidara, however, seemed to have a different opinion. The loudness of the gym appeared to exhilarate him, along with energize him. Bouncing on his heels, the blond began sprinting back and forth, not leaving a three-foot radius of Sasori and screaming wildly. "Oh my God!" he yelled out. "This is SO cool! Thanks for dragging me here, Danna!"

The redhead covered his ears. "You're welcome," he said, loud enough to hear over the crowd. "Let's just find who we're looking for, oka-" Sasori was cut off by a sharp pull backwards. Someone had grabbed him and was taking him out the gym's back door. Deidara followed loyally.

Once they were safely outside, the 'kidnapper' let go. "There you are," a familiar monotone voiced. "DO you know how hard it is to find you in a crowd? I know you can't help it if you're short, but still…"

Sasori turned around to see Itachi, whose face bore a look of crossness. "Er, sorry," he apologized, "But I didn't know if this was how we were going to meet up, or if we were going to wait until after the game, or what."

"Tch. You think I actually want to watch something stupid like that?" Itachi asked rhetorically, hitting the other boy upside the head with the heel of his hand.

Deidara, who had just then had an epiphany, walked over and poked the black-haired kid. "So this," he started, prodding Itachi in the shoulder, "is the friend you said that we were meeting, yeah?"

"No, I'm just some random person off the street who knows Sasori and wants to meet you," the black-haired kid said sarcastically. "Of course I'm him, and if you don't stop poling me, you will find that I am a very unpleasant person."

Dei withdrew his hand. "Yes, sir," he said, a look of fear in his eye. "I'm Deidara, by the way."

Itachi picked a stray hair off of the blond's shoulder. "Itachi. Nice to meet you," he replied. "So this is the Dei you were talking about?" he asked, turning towards Sasori.

He shrugged. "Yeah, more or less. He suffered brain damage while in the hospital, so he's a little more quirky than before, but the main idea is still intact, I think."

Deidara shot him a glare. "I am NOT quirky," he objected.

"No offense, Dei, but someone who insists on making the Eiffel Tower out of fish sticks at lunch is guaranteed to have a few quirks."

The blond grunted. "Point taken," he snarled lightly. Taking a step back, his eyes drifted toward the ground. "So, Tach," he said, "You listen to Three Days Grace too?"

Itachi shrugged. "Only most of the time. I have almost all of their CD's." And with that, the two long-haired boys began conversing about their musical tastes. Sasori, of course, was relieved. They were getting along fine. Crisis averted.

Fifteen minutes later, Deidara checked the clock on his cell phone. "Oh, sorry, guys," he said in a disappointed tone. "I have to go. If I'm not back in a few minutes, my dad'll go nuts."

"See you, then," Itachi replied, not questioning why. Sasori waved goodbye to the blond as he went on his way.

--

A few minutes passed before the redhead asked a question. "Hey, what do you think of Deidara?"

Itachi seemed to smile for a split second before answering. "I like him," he assured, apparently sincere. "You can SO tell that he's clinically insane, though, he seems fun. No wonder you hang around him."

Sasori nodded. "Yeah, he's just a barrel of fun, and then some," he agreed. "Anyway, I'd best be home, too. My grandmother's probably sweating bullets right about now." The other boy laughed at that. "What's so funny?"

The black-haired kid regained his composure. "Nothing, really," he explained, "but I've never really heard someone under the age of 30 use that phrase, that's all. Well, I'll be going too, then. Bye," Itachi called, walking in the opposite direction of which Sasori was standing.

"Yeah, okay. Bye," the other boy echoed, heading home.

------

At school the following Monday, Deidara ran up to Sasori unexpectedly before homeroom. "Oh. My. God," he breathed, flapping his arms around. "Itachi sent me and email! And I didn't even give him my address!" The blond then began ranting about how his personal information was now common knowledge and that he was going to get stalked from now on.

"Dei, chill," the other boy soothed. "He sent me an email, too, even though I never gave him my address, either. Don't worry, he's just good at guessing people's emails, I guess. Don't make a scene."

Deidara ceased his arm-flapping. "Yeah, whatev," he replied flatly, as he took up his normal seat in homeroom.

Wow, mood swings, much. Dei sure was special.

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Ick. One of THE worst chapters I have ever written.

And, just so you know, Dei took himself off the heroin. He's just having mood swings because that's who he is.

Reviews help Itachi and Deidara relate to each other.


	11. Friendship

(sigh) Chapter ten was a disaster, and I can't guarantee that this one will be any better…

Well, anyway, this was one of the easiest chappies to write for me, even if it's basically just stories of Itachi, Deidara and Sasori having fun with one another. Ah, the boyhood memories (those of us who've read Manicurist know what I'm talking about). Enjoy, I guess.

Don't own Youtube, or those Rock Lee icons. XD

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"Okay, I'm sure you're all wondering why I've gathered you here today, yeah," Deidara said with authority to Itachi and Sasori, who were sitting on a park bench in front of him. The blond _had _called the other two to the park for some reason, but neither of them had any idea what that reason was. "Well, I have the awesomest idea ever, and I need your guys' help to complete it!"

Itachi rolled his eyes. "Completely ignoring the fact that 'awesomest' isn't a word, what makes you so sure that we'll go along with this new, crazy scheme you've dreamed up?"

"Heh, Tach, I'd start with, 'What's the plan?' first," Sasori said with a smile.

The blond grunted. "Look, are you going to listen to me or not?"

"Oh, we'll listen, Teacher-sensei," the black-haired kid said jokingly, "but only if we like the lesson plan. If it so happens that the plan does not appeal to us, we will proceed with the whacking-upside-the-head and name calling."

Dei gave Itachi a glare. "Are you _quite_ done yet, yeah?"

"Yeah, I'm good. Carry on."

The blond sighed. "Okay, so here's the line of attack, so to speak," he continued. "I say we make a documentary-type thing on the park. Ya know, like the monkey bars, the swingset, the various flora…stuffs like that. Hence why I said to meet up here."

"Why? It seems pointless."

"It is, but it'll be fun," Deidara promised. "So, are you in or out?"

Sasori shrugged. "Hey, I'll do it. This plan is better than others you've had, and it'll be worth a laugh or two."

Itachi grunted. "If Sasori's doing it, then I guess I will," he said, "but that doesn't mean I'll like it."

Dei clapped his hands together, and took out one of those mini-camcorders from his back pocket. "Good, then let's do it, yeah!"

--

"And here, we see the jungle gym and its many inhabitants," Sasori narrated, as Deidara zoomed the camera in to the climbing play-area, which had a few children racing each other to the top on it.

"Obseve the animals in their natural habitat: their grace, their speed, their…" Itachi added, as a child fell off, "lack of balance? Oh well, 'tis the law of the wild for you."

"Over here," the redhead continued, moving toward the slide, "is a…a…well, we don't know what it is, but it's here, and we're showing it," he said, since he couldn't think of a creative name to call it.

"Yes, Sasori," the other host agreed, "our scientists are currently working on solving the mystery. But, in the meantime, it shall be known as 'The Thing That Has No Name Because We're Too Odd To Just Call It A Slide.'" At that, all three boys burst into hysterical laughter, especially Sasori. He was a sucker for a good improv act. And boy, did Itachi show promise as an improv artist.

Turning off his video camera, Deidara's laughter subsided. "Guys, I think we have enough footage, yeah. Alls I need to do now is upload it onto my computer and put it on Youtube, and we'll be all set."

Itachi's eyes grew wide. "Wait, so you mean that I just acted totally stupid on-camera so that the entire world could see me on a video hosting site?!" 

The blond shrugged. "Yeah, pretty much. Ain't life grand?"

"Oddly, I'm okay with that. Post away, Dei-kun!"

Sasori gave the black-haired kid a look. "Way to sell out, prettyboy."

The other boy turned slightly to face the redhead. "First of all," he said, counting on his fingers, "I'm not a prettyboy. I'm _feminine. _Androgynous, if you dare. Second, I DID NOT sell out. I never said that I didn't want to be on the internet, I merely asked if that was what I had agreed to."

"Oh, please. That makes as much sense as Dei dyeing his hair straw blond," Sasori retorted.

"It made perfect sense. You're just too stubborn to see it. Right, Deidara?" Itachi asked in what was most likely the sweetest tone he could muster.

The blond took a step back. "I'm insane, remember. Absolutely nothing makes sense to me, yeah. Except the stuff I say."

"Ha," Sasori cooed. "See, I was right."

"I never said that what Tach said didn't make sense, I just said that it didn't make sense to ME. That means, random passerby may have understood what he said."

Itachi leaned his head back. "And, Dei, you're _sure _that you didn't forget to take your medicine today?"

"Sure as I am blond. I swear to drunk."

"What?!"

"I swear to drunk," Deidara repeated. "You know, like on those random Rock Lee icons- I swear to drunk that I'm not God. You've never seen those?"

"Of course," Sasori said with a sigh. "Leave it to Dei to use pop-culture references that no one gets."

"People do _to _get my pop-culture references, yeah," the blond argued. "You're just too shut off from society and unobservant to know about them."

"Oh, like you're the one to talk!"

"Yes, I happen to be the one to talk. SO THERE!"

"God, how childish."

"I am NOT a child!"

"Oh really, then why are you whining like one?!"

Itachi couldn't help but laugh at this debate. "You know," he said with a devilish grin, "you guys are really going to have to prove to me that you aren't boyfriends. You fight like a married couple."

"DO NOT!" the two artists yelled in unison.

"Uh-huh. Yeah. Sure."

------

Deidara pounded on Sasori's locked bedroom door a few weeks after that. "Dan-NA!" he yelled. "Let us in! Dammit, we'll be late for the concert, yeah!" Later that night, they were going to a rock concert together- Itachi, Deidara, and Sasori, that is. They had agreed to meet at the redhead's house a few hours beforehand, though, to eat before they went and not have to buy expensive concert food.

"No!" a voice from behind the door answered firmly. "I'm not coming out, and you guys aren't going to get in!"

Itachi rolled his eyes, even though he knew that Sasori couldn't see. "Come on, Sasori," he demanded. "Even _you _need to eat. And your acne can't be that bad. Besides, everyone gets it, so there's no need to feel embarrassed."

After a few seconds, Sasori replied softly. "It's not acne."

"THEN LET US IN!" Dei screeched, hitting the doorknob with his fist roughly. Much to his surprise, the door eased open. "Oh! What now?!" he challenged rhetorically, entering the room. Itachi followed.

Glancing around, the black-haired kid found that there was nothing amiss in the room, except a huge, human-shaped lump underneath a navy blue comforter on top of the bed. Tch. How lame. Mr. Akasuna was hiding under his blanket.

"Come out from under there, silly! We'll be late for the concert otherwise, yeah!" the blond shouted playfully, trying to pull the quilt off of his friend. "Come on!"

Sasori held on to the comforter for dear life, preventing himself from getting exposed. "I'm not going," he said, probably pouting.

Itachi shot him a confused look. "Dude, you CAN'T be serious. This concert's the only thing you've been talking about ever since we got the tickets. Why would you suddenly decide it wasn't worth it?"

The lump on the bed sighed. "Because…because I look stupid."

Deidara laughed. "Uh, Danna, un case you haven't noticed, Tach and I both resemble girls. Don't you think people think that WE look stupid, yeah? So, you'd also 'look stupid,' since you hang around with us. Ergo, it won't matter if you truly look stupid or not."

Sasori shifted under his blanket. "I wouldn't come out even if that made sense."

"We don't care what you look like," the black-haired boy stated. "We just want to go to the concert, and we're not leaving without you. Just show us, okay? We won't laugh," he promised.

"Well, if you say so…" the other boy said distantly, lowering the comforter from over his head, revealing a hot-pink head of hair. "Ta da?"

Itachi's jaw dropped. "Oh…My…Sasori, what did you do to your hair?!" he asked, dumbstruck.

The former redhead let out a sheepish smile. "I, er, tried to bleach it, but as you can see, it didn't quite work."

Deidara clasped his hand over his mouth. "It…looks…cool," he commented, obviously stifling a laugh.

Sasori sighed. "It's okay, go ahead. Laugh. See if I care," he said sourly, as Dei burst out into hysterical laughter.

After the blond had muttered his apologies, Itachi messed with the other boy's hair. "We can make this work," he said confidently. "All we need is hair gel, eyeliner, and glitter."

"Why the glitter?"

The black-haired kid glared. "I like sparkly things, okay?!" He closed his eyes in annoyance. "Let's just go over my place. That's where we'll make this less embarrassing for the pinkhead over here."

Deidara chuckled as he followed both Itachi and Sasori out the door. "Wow, and people say that I'M queer."

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Can you blame Tach? Sparkly things rule. XD And, these last couple chapters have a lot to do with Manicurist, so if you haven't read it, I suggest you read the first 3 chapters before reading chapter 12 (of this fanfic).

Reviews make Sasori's hair return to its natural color faster.


	12. Introductions II

Nya. Twelfth chapter. XD

This fanfic is one chapter longer than Manicurist. That is going to bother me. Oh well, you guys probably don't care.

And, this chapter is basically Sasori and Dei's (mostly Sasori's) side of Manicurist's chapter three. So, if you want, you should read this and Manicurist chap. 3 in conjunction. In two windows, maybe? Oh well, whatever you want to do.

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"Basketball game, basketball game, we're going to see Tach at a basketball game!" Deidara chanted, bounce-walking to Itachi's school. "Fun, fun, fun, fun!"

Sasori kept pace behind the blond. "Yeah, I know," he said, slightly irritated. "Don't get too overexcited, now. It's still a game, remember. There'll be loud noises, cheering fans and cocky athletes," he reminded, obviously not liking the idea.

"I know, yeah! Can't I just be excited, though? And besides, I _like _big crowds and loud noises and all that. Not all of us are social recluses," Dei retorted. "And, we haven't seen Tach all summer. So, I have a right to be excited," he called, taking off.

The blond had a point. They hadn't seen Itachi for a while, mainly because their get-togethers were planned at the school-funded basketball games. When school let out, the games ceased, and therefore the get-togethers stopped as well. Sasori was happy to see Tach too, but he also had more self-control than Deidara did. "Well, just don't scare anyone like you did last time, okay? We don't want a repeat, now do we?"

"Okay, okay."

------

The gymnasium was loud, crowded and obnoxiously decorated. Just like normal basketball games were at Itachi's school. All the people who went there were total sports junkies. Deidara took Sasori by the wrist and led him up into the stands after they entered. "There aren't any courtside seats," he explained.

Taking a place a row lower than Dei, the redhead (who's hair had returned to its normal color) began scanning the crowd for Itachi. Black hair, ponytail. Shorter than Deidara, taller than Sasori. Probably wearing a Three Days Grace t-shirt. Nope, no luck. At least, until he heard the blond yell out, "Tach! Over here!"

The other boy listened as Itachi found and scolded Dei for not sitting near the bottom of the stands. Tch. Typical Itachi. Forgetting about his friends' conversation, he began to tune in to other people's interaction.

"Oh. My. Gosh. Did you hear that Tim broke up with Ashley?"

"No way! They looked so cute together, too…"

"And then, just divide by the reciprocal and-"

"Dude, I was all like, 'AWESOME!' and he was all like, 'Totally rad,' and-"

"DANNA!" Deidara yelled, shaking Sasori vigorously. "Wake up!"

Sasori scoffed. "Yeah, what?!"

The blond gave an ear-to-ear grin. "Tach wants to introduce you to Kisame!" he half-squealed.

The other boy rolled his eyes. "Yeah, and you just did that for him. Nice." His gaze traveled over to a tall, blue-haired, blue-skinned kid sitting next to Itachi. "So you're Kisame, I take it?"

He nodded. "And that makes you Sasori. Er, nice to meet you," he said sheepishly.

"Likewise. And I see you've met the wannabe transvestite, too," the redhead commented, gesturing towards Deidara.

"He means Deidara," Itachi clarified.

"Oh. Why do they call him a wannabe transvestite?"

Sasori laughed. "Uh, have you _seen _the way he dresses? It's a wonder why the teachers don't make him change," he said. The blond was wearing low-rise, hip-hugging jeans, a black-on-fishnet shirt and black wrist guards. An outfit that Sasori would normally never criticize, due to its frequent use. However, he couldn't help but be mean in front of other people. It was just the way he was.

"I can dress however I want to," Deidara said, crossing his legs at the knee and becoming mad.

"Of course you can, Dei," he replied in the most motherly voice he could. "And that's why you get called a fag several times a day."

"Look, people's opinions don't concern me," the blond shot back, knowing where Sasori was going with this. "And it's not like you don't get made fun of, either."

The redhead glared playfully. "Touché," he answered, as he turned back around. God, why was Dei so hard to argue with? It didn't make any sense.

--

When the game ended and everyone exited, Sasori noticed that Kisame hadn't followed then out the back door. Probably went out into the crowd. Sighing, he went to go find the other kid.

Kisame seemed dazed and confused when the redhead found him lost in a sea of people. Grabbing his bicep, Sasori led him out the door and into the lot in the back of the school in which Dei, Itachi and himself would normally meet after basketball games.

Upon reaching the boys' unofficial meeting ground, Deidara wasted no time in asking questions. "Oh. My. God. Danna. Where'd ya go? You were right next to me, and when I turn my back, you're not there anymore! What gives?" he inquired, using his hands to talk. As usual.

Sasori sighed. "Well, Dei," he started, putting his index finger on the side of his chin, "I kind of needed to save Kisame from the evil mole people."

The blond, playing along with the joke, clasped his hand over his mouth. "I had no idea!" he said-screeched. Turning toward Kisame, he posed another stupid, inside-joke question. "You didn't happen to see any jackalopes along the way, didja?"

The blue-haired kid stared at Deidara. "No…I don't think that I did…" he replied uncertainly. Poor Kisame. He had no idea how much Dei enjoyed confusing and scaring people.

Leaning over to him, Sasori whispered something assuring. "Don't worry, he has mental issues."

--

"Oh, Tach, you're good," Deidara commented, walking in a wide circle.

The black-haired kid shrugged. "I guess…"

Kisame's face bore a look of worry. "Good with what?!" he asked nervously.

The blond laughed. "Like you don't know. Your nails."

"My…nails?"

"Yeah," the blond replied in a happy tone. "It took me 2 months to do Danna's nails, and Itachi did yours in less than two weeks. If that's not impressive, then I don't know what is."

Kisame gave Dei a confused look. "So Itachi's _not _the only one who does his nails?"

"Nope," he replied, showing off his shiny, black nails. "Danna's are red."

"Red? But I thought only whores paint their nails red…"

Deidara giggled. "No, Danna does is too," he retorted playfully. "They match his hair and eyes, so it looks cool-"

"It does _not," _Sasori cut in, about to offer his unchanging opinion. "The only reason I settled for red was because it was either that or hot pink, and I don't think ANY guy would be caught dead with hot pink nails."

Itachi let out a chuckle. "Oh, but I could SO picture you with hot pink nails," he said in between laughs.

The redhead could feel the blood rising into his face. "Don't you dare," he hissed.

"Hey, Dei, remember that one time-"

"SHUT UP!" he yelled, interrupting the black-haired kid's story. Those two had promised not to laugh. They even agreed not to talk about it. Pfft. So much for _that _promise.

The two boys with long hair broke out into hysterical laughter, and Sasori continued blushing. "What's the story?" Kisame asked, obviously curious.

Deidara seemed to enjoy telling the tale. "Well, Danna tried to bleach his hair, but it came out hot pink instead of blond. Lucky for him, the teachers let him keep his hood up in class."

"IT'S. NOT. FUNNY," Sasori insisted, as Itachi snorted.

The blue-haired kid waved his hands around. "Hey, hey," he started, "that's enough. The poor kid's gonna faint, with all the blood rushing to his head."

_Thank you, Kisame. _The redhead's cheeks almost matched his hair at this point and any relief was extremely welcome.

--

Shortly after negotiating ice cream with Dei if he stopped, Sasori headed home with the blond. Lord knows that if he wasn't back by curfew, his (Deidara's) dad would beat him to hell and back.

Going in their houses' direction, Deidara asked Sasori a question. "What do you think of Kisame, yeah?"

The redhead shrugged. "He's okay," the other boy replied, "But I don't really know him that well. I can't judge him yet." Coming up to a fork in the road, the two artists took different paths. "But, I think you scared him a bit too much." Sasori didn't know why he had even bothered in saying that; he knew that Dei wasn't listening. Oh well. Can't hurt to ask, right?

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Second-to-last chapter, people! Enjoyed, I hope?

Wow, already this fanfic has a total of 60 reviews (counting both versions) and two c2s! I can't believe it! I mean, I didn't think it'd be this popular. I don't know, maybe other people aren't bothered by the many one-line paragraphs and constant identification by hair color as I am. Oh well, 'tis me for ya.

Reviews help Kisame overcome his newfound fear of Deidaras.


	13. Epilogue

Okay, peoples, listen. I've gotten some reviews about how I'm always prating about Manicurist, and that no one cares about it, and blah blah blah…

Well, I got news for you guys. The only reason I talk about it so much is because I'm rather proud of it; I think it turned out great, and I don't give a damn if it's dead or not. And, I've actually attracted readers to that story via this one. So, apparently, some people do care.

And, they're in author's notes! If you're so annoyed by me mentioning it so much, then just skip them! I don't really care if you read the author's notes or not, simply because I know you people'd rather read the actual storyline.

I understand that it can get annoying especially if you're not a KisaIta fan, but you don't need to flame me. And, the entire thing isn't KisaIta, just like Psychologist isn't entirely SasoDei. It wasn't even _supposed _to be a shonen-ai fic in the first place!

This is even the last chapter, and the next serial fanfic I plan on doing set in this universe has absolutely NOTHING to do with Manicurist and just barely with Psychologist, so this'll be the last time you ever hear me go on about it! I hope you're all happy now.

Look, this is an epilogue for a reason. I skipped around in the original storyline, and it will make very little sense to those of you who haven't read the other half of the story. Okay? They were just suggestions anyways. **You never had to follow them**.

And, you seem to be forgetting that I can delete this fanfiction whenever I want. I don't care; I have both the rough and final drafts in my possession. So, just keep that in mind.

If you read all that, I thank you. If not…whatever. I'm done dealing with you.

This chapter is dedicated to A. Sponge (an anonymous reviewer), who just _had _to see what Sasori was thinking as…yeah. Just read. ((_Thanks for the request, Sponge-chan, this was one of the funnest things ever to write, not to mention a great way to end it. :) Oh, and I don't own Metallica. _))

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There was something seriously wrong with Deidara. At the Akatsuki meeting Friday night, he had been withdrawn and quiet. So unlike Dei. Sasori figured that it was because his dad had beaten him right before the gathering, so, like always, he had treated the blond nicely, even motherly. Normally, that would've been the end of that. But, this time, there was something else up. Hugely. Because, that Monday, Deidara was extremely off. He spaced out terribly during classes, was undeniably surly, and destroyed whatever was in easy reach, should he get mad. Sasori was genuinely worried for Dei, but whenever he inquired what the matter was, he would just get snapped at. "Nothing! Stop bothering me, yeah!"

But, he couldn't just let it go. He knew that Deidara was having some serious additional problems, and they were rooted in his house. Sasori just needed to know now what the problems were.

So, he stopped by the blond's house after school. Grandma Chiyo wouldn't mind if he was a few minutes late. Like she could see the clock.

When he walked up to the front door, he found it to be unlocked. Tentatively, pushing it open, Sasori let himself inside and headed up the stairs. He figured that that was where Deidara's room was, since after beatings, he would always schlep up the long staircase.

At the end of the hallway in which the staircase led to, there was an oaken door with a light coming from underneath it. Knocking, the redhead hoped that it wasn't the black-haired abuser behind it. When Dei answered it, Sasori couldn't be happier. "Hey, Dei," he greeted, with as much giddiness as he wished to ever exert. "The font door was unlocked, so I just let myself in. Um, is everything okay?"

The blond's single blue eye stared at him. "Go," he said quietly, slowly shutting the door. "Leave now. I don't want you to-"

"Deidara, something's wrong. I know it. Just…just tell me what it is so that I can help you," Sasori insisted, pushing the door open as Dei tried to close it. "You're not going to brush me off like you're trying to do."

The other boy sighed. "Fine. Come in, yeah," he said, defeated.

Deidara's room was simple, yet welcoming- a black-and-red cloud comforter on the bed matched the dark, poorly-lit Metallica poster on the ceiling, which contrasted with the computer on the desk, and so forth. Sasori rather liked it. "So…what's this all about?" the redhead asked, leaning up against the bare space on the wall.

Dei, completely ignoring the question, rummaged through the top drawer of his dresser, and eventually pulled out something shiny and black. Concealing it behind his leg, he sighed as he turned to face his friend. "I'm sorry," he stated in a low, sad tone. "I never wanted you to have to witness this, yeah."

Sasori gave a smile. "Witness what?" he asked, faking a naïve undertone. What was Deidara going to do?

The other boy sighed. "Sasori, listen. All my life, I've been pushed around. For as long as I can remember, my dad has been abusing me. My mother tried to stop him, but her dying of cancer made her cause fail. For years I've taken it lying down. For years I've lived in terror of coming home, for fear of the person who's supposed to protect and take care of me." He approached the redhead, step by step. "I need it to stop. I can't take it anymore." Taking the other boy's hand, he gently pressed his lips up against Sasori's. "Danna," he whispered, "I'm sorry. I don't want to hurt anyone- not Itachi, not Kisame, and definitely not you. But, I can't take it." Turning his head away, he let go of Sasori's hand and backed up.

Bringing the black thing out from behind him, the redhead finally figured out what it was. A gun. Was Deidara…going to shoot himself? Commit suicide? No. he wouldn't. Not in front of him. No… "Forgive me," the blond mouthed, putting the gun up onto the right side of his head and pulling the trigger.

**Bam. **

Dei's body seemed to flinch outwardly, frozen in time for a split second, before his corpse hit the floor with a light 'thud.' Sasori screamed. As blood seeped out from his friend's head, he could feel his temperature rising and his heart pounding. He wanted to vomit. It was a grotesque scene, made even gorier by the fact that he knew the person in question. Gasping, his knees buckled in. Tears rolled down his cheeks as he realized what had just happened. _Oh my God. Deidara just shot himself because he couldn't take the abuse any more. Since he didn't want to go into foster care, and he hated cutters, this must've seemed like the only way out. And the only sure way that he'd stay out. Oh, God…_ Getting up, he ran out of the house and made a call on his cell phone. Kisame would know what to do…

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Sasori just barely got himself out of bed the next morning. He must've had bags bigger that Itachi's, since he hadn't slept at all the night before. How could he? Every time he closed his eyes, all he could see was Dei's bloody, dead body lying on the floor with thick, red liquid oozing out from the mortal wound in his head. All he could hear was the blond's voice, the spirit behind it broken, saying "I'm sorry. I can't take this anymore." It made him quiver like a building during an earthquake, and he wondered how he'd live through it.

During school, he couldn't concentrate. It was like he was a shell: his eyes saw, his ears heard, and his hands felt, but none of it was being processed or perceived. At lunch, his food sat untouched, and his once great creative-essay-writing-skills were absolutely demolished in English. It was almost as if Dei had taken a part of Sasori away along with his own life the last night.

Going home that day, his thought clouded his vision. Continuing to picture the corpse, Sasori's instincts were the only things guiding him home. Which means that he didn't check to see if cars were coming before he crossed a normally peaceful street.

And-

XXXXXXXXXX

"Oh my God!" a lady yelled, getting out of her car. She and another person had been on a collision course, and a red-haired boy had inadvertedly gotten himself into the crossfire. "Kid, are you okay?"

His breathing was slow and forced, and he coughed up blood every couple of seconds. The vehicles may have crushed some of his internal organs, the woman figured, as the other car that took part in the accident sped off like the devil was chasing him. "Get back here, you bastard!" she yelled giving him some obscene gestures before returning her attention to the kid. She propped his head onto her lap, and immediately called 911. Watching his chest rise and fall, she began to worry if she had just committed unintentional murder.

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_Beep…beep…beep…_

The many instruments monitoring Sasori blipped and beeped as they read his vital signs. A female doctor, with purple cropped hair and a stethoscope around her neck, hastily took notes on a clipboard. She began worrying for the poor kid's life, since the blipping was slowing down. He had been hit by a car- two, actually- when they were on a collision course. Stupid asshole was driving on the wrong side of the road. He went comatose a few minutes after the impact, and, thanks to a kind stranger, had ended up in the emergency room.

Although the outlook seemed grim, she knew that he would pull through. He has to. He was Sasori, the kid who had tried to bleed himself to death, but then had a wake-up call and saved his friend's life. He could make it. Lord knows he had enough willpower.

XXXXXXXXXX

An abyss. A cold, black, empty abyss. That was the best way that Sasori could describe where he was. His limbs lay useless, being eaten away at by the freezing temperature, and his eyes wouldn't open, no matter how hard he tried. _Am I dead? _He wondered. _No…I can feel my heartbeat. Bump. Bump. Wow, it really _is _rhythmatic! And slow. Maybe my heart's slowed down so much that I'm in a permanent coma. How weird would that be? _Letting his thoughts wander more, he overheard a 'beeping' sound in time with his heart. _Oh, they're monitoring me, _he realized. _Wow, I must be in pretty bad shape. I wonder if I'll die peacefully, just laying here. That'd be good. That way, I won't have to be haunted by those awful images of Dei's corpse. Yeah._ Breathing deeply, he once again focused on his heartbeat. Bump. Bump. Bump. Bump.

XXXXXXXXXX

The female doctor anxiously adjusted the machines monitoring Sasori. No. He couldn't die. He had so much to live for. God, he was only 13! This couldn't happen, it just couldn't…

Her spirits fell as the beeping quieted into nothing. The line graph that pulsed with his heart straightened. He was gone.

A sigh was given from the female doctor. He didn't make it. He didn't pull through. Guess he just didn't have the strength.

XXXXXXXXXX

Sasori didn't know where he was. He had never been here before. The houses were uniform, gray, and the one-lane road that they bordered seemed to go on forever. Even more peculiar, though, was the sky. The sun was out and shining brightly, yet it was still eerily gloomy, and rain poured down onto the street, despite the lack of clouds.

Walking toward the end of the road, he noticed that none of the houses had any lights on. Maybe they were vacant. Or maybe the people inside were Amish. The redhead didn't know, nor did he really care.

Why was he here, of all places? The unfamiliar-ness of the neighborhood dictated that this was not a childhood memory. And, the fact that whenever he tried to talk, all that would come out of his mouth was a small, exhaling sound, told him that he wasn't in a normal place. _Why the sudden muteness?_ He wondered. This was getting weirder and weirder.

Sasori would have been extremely creeped out right about then, had he not seen Deidara standing in the middle of the road. His hair was darkened and weighed down by the rain, his eyeliner was streaked down his face, and his expression was that of a relieved, once-depressed lover, but it was definitely the oddball blond that he had come to know.

Tediously, the blond made his way toward Sasori, dragging his heels as he walked. When the redhead walked on towards to blond, so as to meet him halfway, Dei immediately ran Sasori's arms.

Pulling the redhead is closer, Deidara whispered, "Even heaven is hell without you, yeah."

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Well, there it is. The end. Hope that wasn't as crappy-ass as I thought it was.

So now, final reviews are in order. You know, what you liked, what you didn't like, blah blah blah…and PLEASE don't say anything about how I shouldn't compare this one to the other and how I should've focused on making this fanfic better…too late. Over and done with. Gone. Bye-bye. (You get it.)

((sigh)) Whatever. 'Till next time, I guess.


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